Red Hood City
by Nezz.Kind
Summary: The Red Hood arrives in the violent and corruption filled city of Bludhaven. Unlike the softer, more gentler touch of his vigilante predecessors, Jason Todd opts to take a harder line with the city's criminals. A Red Hood, a terse warning, and if needed, an initialed bullet right to the grey matter. "Look on and despair scumbags. You've traded one good for a lesser one."
1. Chapter 1

**Red Hood City**

 _By Nezz_

This is Blüdhaven.

Gotham's ugly step sister.

Crueler, dirtier, and so deep in its own hell you can smell the iron and sulfur. Worst of all,

It doesn't have a masked vigilante.

No Batman, no dark knight, nobody out there to balance out the scales.

Until now.

…

My name is Jason Todd, and I am the _ **Red Hood.**_

Every costume that's rolled through this town's already left. Nightwing, Robin, some other guys I can't name off the top of my head. They've moved on to better things.

Not a big deal. Despite how hard they tried, they barely put a dent in this blood crusted city.

Sometimes heroes have the unfortunate "lesser evil" kind of situation. Well, Blüdhaven is about to experience its **lesser good**.

The new vigilante in town isn't above maiming or using more… _heavy handed_ means. The guys I go after? They don't come out **whole** most of the time.

My targets get one chance. I send them a little greeting gift in a red hood draped over their head while they sleep. Send the message that no matter who they are, where they are, or however much minion fodder they have, I can still get to them. Easily.

After I serve them their citation, they get 24 hours to make things square. Distribute their assets to their victims and turn themselves over to the authorities. I'll be honest. My heart does a little skip every time the chumps don't take the message seriously.

When I'm done with this town, the crime lords will be begging to have any other vigilante handing their asses to them. Look on and despair scumbags. You've traded one good for a lesser one.

I can tell.

This is going to be fun already…

I gotta admit, after running with the Outlaws for so long, I miss working the cities.

Every gig with Roy and Kori was either offworld, alien, or some no holds bar firefight in the middle of nowhere. Not that I mind, but cities are a different beast.

You can't go right for the jugular most times. People like to think it's simple; I definitely used to. Find the big bad boss, walk up to his front door, and knock it down.

No. Major metropolis cities require more subtlety and finesse. Like plugging a knife in the right spot between the rib cages. Kill one boss, another rises to take their place, or more importantly, someone more capable. Have to learn the consequences of your actions and see the effect. Do it wrong and the cops are on your ass, or even worse— other heroes.

There are annoying consequences to everything. The trick is to working it so the consequences are below my give-a-s*** meter.

Surgical precision is needed.

It requires some prep….

…

 _Then_ you go for the jugular.

Scouted the city for a few weeks since I got here. Didn't even put the costume on once. Just surveying the land.

Found something interesting when I got here.

Blüdhaven actually _did_ have a vigilante, if you want to call him that.

He goes by the name: **Blüd Knight**.

(I wonder how many red and blood related themes and puns am I gonna hear?)

Dresses in a Kevlar suit, short red cape, military grade night vision goggles, and packs two Uzi submachine gunes. He looks like a character from one of those over the top action movies.

Seems to be well liked by the community in general. Saw him in action a few times. Amateur. Lots of spray and pray shooting. Messy and loud.

Quick, tangent. There are six major crime syndicates vying for control over Blüdhaven, all at the same time. Yeah, SIX. It's Christmas.

Anyway, Blüd Knight's been boosting his public image by fighting five of them. Very openly, I might add.

The cops are ineffective, so the good innocent residents of the place look to him for help.

Remember when I said he fights five of them? Maybe you're asking about the one syndicate he doesn't butt heads with.

And there's the hook.

He _works_ for them.

Had to watch him for a while to make sure. Don't want to put a bullet in an actual good guy.

…..Cause I don't do that anymore, right?

Sometimes I forget.

Anyway.

It's not a bad way to go about it. Masquerading as a hero and using it as cover to take out the competition. The masses and the cops support you, no one ever really checks if you loot your dead, lot of resources at your disposal. Oh. And of course, there's the little ego boost you get.

Blüdhaven's knight in ironic armor.

But like I said before, you can't just go and cut off the first head you see. Cause and effect.

Killing the city's sole hero can backlash a little too hard. I'm trying to make Bludhaven my hunting grounds, after all. Wouldn't do to get chased out after just one kill.

Have to find a way to do this just right.

Negate the consequences, but still send the message that the Red Hood is here. Can't kill him anonymously. That's the thing about masked aliases. People don't really know who you are, which makes you replaceable by someone else.

No. I've got to make it public to some extent.

Took some reading hours, but I found my move.

Left her a small calling card in her pocket when I bumped into her this afternoon. Now all I have to do is wait on the rooftop of the police station.

Old habits from days running with Bruce. Always good practice to have some sort of dialogue with the police force. Even if the messages traded are "stay the hell out of my way, and I'll stay the hell out of yours".

The roof door opens and she steps outside.

 **Lara Keyes.**

Detective, tested top percentage on her shooting test, practices Muay Thai _and_ Brazilian jujitsu, volunteers at the homeless shelter, donates frequently to the local orphanage, brass tacks tough with a heart of gold. And maybe most importantly, she used to work for Jim Gordon.

The cop holds up my red batarang labeled "Rooftop".

"Dramatic, just like the _other_ guy. I know you're out there!" she calls.

"I'm nothing like _him._ "

"Geez! Seriously, with the whole morphing out of the shadows thing too? I almost put a bullet in you."

"Better shots have tried."

"Yeah, well I'm not here to banter. What is this?"

"Sounds like you've had some experience with the Batman yourself. What do you think?"

She looks down at the red bat emblem for a while. "...You're one of his people…The one who kills."

"Yeah. The one who kills. Usually I go by 'Red Hood' though."

"Hm."

"Dissatisfied with the killing part? Going to arrest me?"

She gives me a skeptical look.

"What are you doing in Bludhaven?"

"Could ask you the same thing. What made you leave Gotham?"

"Done your research, I see. I went to work with Gotham PD, but I was born in Bludhaven. This is my home. Moved back to change it for the better."

"And that happens by letting someone like Blüd Knight have free rein in your city?"

Keyes stiffens up a little.

"I'm not stupid. I know he works for Rufus and the Vamp Syndicate…I've tried to put together a taskforce to go after him, but they've got higher ups in their pockets. I can't even find out which ones they are either…! Just denial of requests from nowhere."

"Tale as old as crime."

She tightens her fist. The detective's real sore about this.

Good.

"Then how 'bout you work with me? I've had my eye on Blüd Knight for a while now. Taking him out would make a good debut, I think."

"…You going to kill him?"

"Maybe. If he doesn't make amends. Could use a detective's help to soften the aftermath."

Keyes shakes her head.

"No go, Red Hood. There's no way I'm helping you commit vigilante murder."

"And if I drop him off in front of police station in a neat little bow, can you promise me the Vamp Syndicate won't just pull some strings and get him out?"

"…"

"Didn't think so."

"You want to make a good first impression? Bring him in alive and I'll do everything in my power to see him prosecuted. I'll stake my job on it!"

"You'll be staking more than your job."

"The day I signed up to be a cop in Bludhaven, I wrote out a last will."

"He's better off dead. I can tell his type."

"And I know yours. **Batpeople** don't kill. You're different, I get it, but I also know you're trying to do better."

"Now, who's done their research?"

"Former Gotham PD. You learn to keep tabs on all the Bats after meeting _him_. I've read the reports about you. You're not a psychopathic killer."

Keyes looks at me with expectation. It's the same look I get from Barb, Drake, and Grayson time to time.

"Bring him in alive, Red Hood. I know you can. Then you've got a friend on the force and not another blue trying to put you down. Be better than the kill."

 _*Sigh*_ Well, not like she's wrong. I _have_ been trying to do better. Is it okay to be optimistic?

"Fine, Keyes. In the interest of making new friends, we'll do it your way the first time round."

"…Thank you."

"Just don't screw up the prosecution, or make me say 'I told you so'. Anything short of a full arrest, and he gets the Red Hood treatment."

"I've been thinking about how to put a case against him since he first showed up. I can handle it. Just get me Blüd Knight _alive_."

…

"Red Hood?"

Keyes looks around.

"Aaaand I've just been talking to myself for the last bit, haven't I? Damn disappearing trick."

This is awkward. Wonder if I should tell her I'm still here, but just moved outside her vision. That whole vanishing mysteriously in mid conversation was never my style.

Heh.

 _Time to get to work…_

 **Release Schedule**

New entry once a week or less.


	2. First, Second, and Third Blood

**Chapter 2: First, Second, and Third Blood**

 _This place is unbelievable…_

After spending a whole day scouting the city, my mind's burnt out. I'm just walking back to my apartment, and every two blocks, there's someone being mugged in an alleyway. It's not something that needs breaking out the mask, but still really annoying.

" _Ahhh!"_

I run towards the screaming and turn the brick building corner to see them.

This time it's two gangsters robbing a hooker. Classy. I'll just handle it on the mysterious good Samaritan guise and no one will ask a thing.

Counting the steps to them. At about fifteen. Always good to get a running start.

On my approach, their figures get clearer. One small guy. His partner is almost double his size in width.

I'm practically stomping the concrete now. Splash a small puddle, and the idiots still don't notice. Eight steps.

They've got knives…..Or small forks. Any blade under ten inches can barely be called one. They're not holding it close enough to the woman so there's no danger to her.

Five steps. Going to jump the last three.

They finally notice.

That's right. Aim your face right into my knee _aaaand_ ….

 _*CRACK!*_

Broken nose, a lot of blood, and maybe some bruising from his back landing on the concrete. He's still conscious, if barely. The blood's in his eyes and clogging up his nostrils. Should make use of every advantage. He can't breathe through his nose anymore. It would _really_ suck if he couldn't breathe through his mouth too.

I cover his mouth with one hand, and he starts panicking. Doesn't pay attention to my other hand, much less defend against it. Controlled blow to the chin rattles his brain.

 _*Bam!*_

Second blow goes to the temple.

 _*Bam!*_

Have to be careful with that one. Too hard and it could kill him. So I do it _gently_ enough so he's out cold.

"Hiiieeee!" the remaining gangster squeaks. He has his fork pointed at me, shaking harder with every passing moment. He's a junkie….

"I'LL STAB YOU!"

"Right….Want to try that again?"

"W-What?"

"I think you said something stupid. Take a _deep_ breath and try to say something again, but _smarter_ this time."

"…D-d-don't follow me!"

"There, you go."

He turns around and runs in that clumsy desperate way emasculated thugs do. It's like they're drowning in air. I almost change my mind to go after him, but I guess the woman takes priority.

"You alright, lady?"

"Y-yes…! Thanks-s…"

She's shaken up pretty bad.

"You need to call someone? Friend? Cop? I can walk you over or keep you company until—"

"I'm fine! My pimp is just a few blocks over."

"Sad day when you rely on a pimp over cops or friends."

Tears well up in her eyes and she exhales a stuttering sigh. Her hands tremble, as she pulls out a cigarette and tries to light it.

"W-Well….That's Bludhaven for you."

While I wait for her to calm down some, I take a look at the sleeping gangster on the ground. He's wearing some old jeans and shoes. His puffy jacket's stained with mud. And hanging around his neck is a black string with animal teeth hanging from it. The kind of accessory I've seen in Hawaiian wear stores.

Of course, it means something different. Gangsters from the Vamp syndicate wear "fangs" to identify their members. Sometimes it's an earring, or a patch, or even a keychain. Drives the police nuts when the thugs don't advertise themselves as thugs.

" _ **HALT, VILLAIN!"**_

(You've got to be s****ing me….)

I see him standing at the end of the alleyway. Legs spread apart, hands on his hips, like he's posing for a pelvic thrust photo op.

"That's the guy Blüd Knight! He attacked me with that whore! They tried to scam me!" yells the gangster, who ran away before. Little prick is practically hiding behind Blüd Knight like he's his mom.

(Should've took down the weasel when I had the chance.)

" _ **THE SCOUNDRELS! I CANNOT LET THIS PASS!"**_

The "hero" shakes his cape back dramatically and pulls two uzis.

(Crap.)

Training kicks in and I dive for cover behind a dumpster. Even if it's made out of metal, the bullets will go through with enough shots. Have to lay as flat to the ground as possible.

Flashes from the gunfire light the dark street. The sound is deafening as it echoes between the walls. Through the hail of lead, I can hear the faint _cling_ of bullets sprinkling the pavement.

Uzis run through bullets fast on full auto. The fireworks last only a few seconds before he has to reload. As soon as the time window starts, I evaluate my condition.

(Crap.)

One of the bullet ricochets tagged my left thigh. I don't even register the pain until I see the actual wound. Moving around is going to suck….

…

And then my eyes meet _hers_.

Dead and open, her body riddled with holes and slow seeping with blood. I couldn't save her.

(Damn it.)

I can feel anger burning the pit of my stomach. Pain's getting dulled with the body chemicals pumping like nitrous.

Even with all the rage and adrenaline coursing through me, I can't just rush head on at Blüd Knight. Baser instincts get people killed by amateurs.

For all of Bruce's faults, there's at least one thing he did well. He trained the best in all of us. For Grayson, he honed his agility. Drake, he nurtured his mind. I wonder what he'll teach Damian.

In my case, he taught me to curb my emotions, which were always very…. _volatile_ if I'm putting it lightly. Bruce made me channel my rage and stubbornness into fuel. That seems to be something people mistake about me a lot. The angrier I am, the harder I concentrate. I'm not some gun toting crazy guy in a red mask.

I'm a gun toting highly focused guy in a red mask.

Before Blüd Knight finishes reloading, I jump to the fire escape above. Need to get as much height as possible before he starts shooting again. There's a hole in my leg, but my body's endorphins make it feel like it's not there.

After climbing a fair amount, I hear the Uzis click the next bullets into their chambers. A shower of gun fire comes shortly after.

I dodge the best I can, but it doesn't matter too much. The guy's a horrible shot. Add the fact that he's aiming up and I bet he can barely keep his arms from dropping. People get too used to shooting down and across. Firing up and at unusual angles puts a bigger burden on limbs than most realize.

The hail of lead stops again, and now it's my turn. Just need to control the descent and let gravity do the work.

Blüd Knight shifts his attention from reloading his guns to see what I'm doing. That's right. Aim your face right at my boot….

 _*CRACK!*_

Steel toe shatters his face mask and night vision goggles. He's already unconscious by the time I pin him down. It doesn't take me half a second to take one of his uzis and load it with a new magazine.

I'm forgetting something. Oh, right. The weasel prick.

Guy turns to run away, but not before I put a couple bullets in his calves. Then another two in his shoulder and tricep.

"Limp away faster before I change my mind."

The weasel scurries away faster and I turn my attention back to Blüd Knight. It would be so easy to kill him now. I don't even remember resting the uzi's barrel on his forehead, but there it is. My index finger squeezing the trigger right to point of shooting.

I look back and see the dead woman's body still there. The devil on my shoulder yells in my ear to give in to the hate. What's wrong with killing him? Nothing.

Nothing's wrong.

Just do it.

….

A second passes….

….Then another.

The voice fades. The urge fades.

I breathe and the anger passes.

Something I've been doing lately. Waiting out my rage. Others are always telling me to fight it, but the problem is it always seems to fight back. But emotions are impatient. Given enough time, they give up.

I pistol whip Blüd Knight hard.

(They give up _a little._ )

Cars are screeching in the distance. I don't hear sirens, so they're not police. Gotta move before I get surrounded.

When I stand up and look over Blüd Knight's sleeping face, I make a promise.

 _After I patch myself up a little, I'll make sure to drop a Red Hood by later._


	3. First Impressions

**Chapter 3: First Impressions**

 _(Previously on Red Hood City: Red Hood finds himself a provisional ally in one Detective Keyes,_ _ **if**_ _he is able to bring Blüd Knight in alive. He also runs into the corrupt vigilante on one night's outing, resulting in the loss of an innocent woman's life. Now, Red Hood is about to give Blüd Knight one warning in the form of a red cloth draped over his face. "Make all reparations and turn yourself over to the police in twenty fours, or die.")_

My little run in with Blüd Knight must've spooked him good.

I wasn't wearing my mask, but the way I fought isn't something just anyone could do. It's possible him and his gang made me. It's more likely they think one of the other five rival syndicates hired their own enforcer.

D-List villains make cheap mercs. I've seen some of them hired on Craigslist of all things. What a world we live in.

Anyway, Blüd Knight went running to his boss, Rufus Vamp, the night I fed him a steel toe boot. Rufus is smart. Doesn't brush it off or take it lightly, despite how inane his man sounds. Some random good Samaritan took down a guy with SWAT grade equipment, armor, and two uzis with nothing but a well-placed kick? I'm bragging. I know. But it would definitely take some hard believing. Not Vamp though.

The big boss takes every precaution. He moves Blüd Knight out of his cozy loft on the fiftieth floor of the syndicate's skyscraper, and puts him in a fortified warehouse on the harbor. I've scouted the building before. It's got all the big toys and some of their most important resources: drugs, bills, rare guns, and A LOT of blackmail material. The warehouse is outfitted with every security measure on the market, including some not commercially available. Walls and roof are lined with enough steel to withstand most bombs. It's practically a nuclear fallout bunker.

And then there are the guards. Bodies in and out of the building. Cars and fake loiterers lining the streets outside. The sentry shifts have no gaps, and the personnel are all properly trained. Crack shooters and ex-military. They know how to hold down a stronghold.

I've gotta say, I kind of respect Rufus for sticking Blüd Knight in there for safe keeping. First sign of something that's supposed to look like bad luck, and he moves his man into the organization's veritable Fort Knox. I might be underestimating him.

More than skills, strength, or even brains, it's **paranoia**. Paranoia is how people survive. Plan for the worst outcomes and prepare for more problems after that. An ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure. It's one of the things that makes Batman Batman.

As I stare at Vamp Fort Knox from afar, I can't help but think, "Yeah. I should've just killed him back then, and saved myself the trouble". Cause now I have to break into the damn place to issue a simple warning. I was planning on raiding the warehouse after my debut, and taking inventory. Maybe even helping myself to some of their goodies. But now I don't have the luxury of doing that…

And there's also the fact that Blüd Knight could ignore my warning, and I'd have to break into there all over again!

*Sigh*

Whatever. I'll find another way even if they buff security after tonight.

So, how do you break into a heavily fortified warehouse on the harbor, through the crazy manpower guarding all the streets and the surrounding structures? You don't.

When they guard the land, you come from the sea. Someone once said. Alfred, maybe?

On the other side of the building is Bludhaven Bay. It's not too large a body of water. Although it's night, you can see everything for miles out. Light from the city practically illuminates everything, and the Vamp's have one or two boats out there for good measure. Can't blame them for having lax security in that area.

It's not like they expect someone to have a military grade DPD(Diver Propulsion Device) for extended travel. Usually, it's something only the NAVY can get their hands on but….

.

Yes, I have one and yes, I stole it. Thought it would come in handy one day.

It takes a lot of practice, prep work, and careful navigation. Diving is no joke, and diving over a few miles? Any mistakes and you run out of air, or come out the water with ten guns trained on you. I know, it's not the graceful and pretty grapple hooking you expect out of Bats, but it beats being a bullet piñata. I will NOT be a bullet piñata. Plus, it doesn't get you into the building, which if you remember, has military armor plating and sensors.

So, how do you take out animals covered in armor, or spikes, or whatever else? You attack the belly where the meat is softest.

No one likes to reinforce the floor. Why would you? It sounds dumb just saying it. But that window of neglect is my welcome mat. So it's time I brush my shoes off and step right in.

I take a moment to look at my red helmet before putting it on. I'm not the sentimental type, but I do say a little something.

"Look on and despair scumbags. Here comes the lesser good."

I dump the DPD out of the truck and into the water. Drove out far enough so no one could see me. That's not true. One couple having "fun" near the shore saw me. It's okay though. I gave them a little wave and said,

"Hello. The name's Red Hood. Don't mind me, but remember to use protection."

It's important to be friendly. First impressions are everything. Tonight's my big coming out party and I want to start off on the right foot.

Diving suit check. Oxygen check. Breach equipment check. Guns check. Balls…

I grab them and shift the family jewels so they're nice and comfy.

Check.

Ready and steady.

 **Part 2**

The diving suit is supposed to block out outside temperatures and keep me insulated, but I can still feel some ice coldness on my skin. I like it. I'm so excited I need something to cool my beating heart. Listen to me, sounding like a high school boy asking someone to prom. Course, that someone being Blüd Knight tonight. Will you turn yourself in, or will I have to kill you?

The Vamp boats move close overhead and I ease off the accelerator. They shouldn't be able to see me, but what did I say about paranoia again?

The boats pass and my scuba trip continues. All I see is dark blue. Can't use the lights, or I risk giving myself away. Only thing to rely on is the navigator, which is hard with all the twisting currents.

*Bam*

A big fish hits my helmet. I ran into a pigeon once, while grapple hooking. I wonder if Superman ever runs into birds….

*Bam*

Stupid fishes…

…

Finally, I'm where I need to be. Under a section of the warehouse, I plant the shape charges. After it's all set up, I hold the trigger in my hand. Give myself a quick review of the plan just to double check things.

I can feel the edges of my lips pulling up without meaning to.

Cold in the water, surrounded on all sides by trained killers, and I couldn't be happier.

"Wake the f*** up, Bludhaven~ "

*Boom*

The charges go off and blasts a whole through the floor. A slab of concrete falls down and I move through the entrance. I listen for footsteps.

There are some guards approaching, but they're in no rush. Most of the sound from the explosion was muffled by the water.

I take in my surroundings, and it looks like the warehouse has large steel storage stacked in neat rows. Looks straightforward enough. My instincts direct my eyes upwards. The manager's office. That's where Blüd Knight is staying.

After hiding the hole with some nearby wood boards, I move through the aisles. Have to remind myself not to shoot the guards, even though I really really want to. Drop the Red Hood on Blüd Knight's stupid sleeping face and leave. That's all I'm here to do.

A quiet grappling hook up and a few silent steps around the balcony sentries, and I'm in the room right before Blüd Knight's.

There are two guards in front of the manager's office. Both of them wide awake and attentive. They're looking right at the door I need to walk through. They have masks on, so knockout gas is no go. Their armor is covering almost every inch of their bodies. Only their eyes are unprotected, because the naked eyes work better than goggles in plain, well-lit rooms. If I can get close enough….

Hehe.

I tap a few keys on my helmet and a temporary hologram appears, cloaking my head with one of their comrades. Thank you stolen face camo tech from Spyral. You can send the bill to secret agent Grayson for letting me lift it so easy. It doesn't cover the wet suit I'm wearing, but it doesn't need to. Not like the disguise needs to buy a lot of time.

I open the door as casually as possible and walk towards the guards.

"Hey! What are you doing here before the shift?"

They already suspect me and bring up their guns. Not bad.

"What are you weari—! LIGHT HIM!"

They're too late by the time they decide to shoot. I just needed to get close enough to aim better. A subtle flick of my wrist and a few tranq darts fly out. They thread the air and stick the guards under their eyes and the bridge of their noses. I make a small sprint to catch them before they hit the floor. Want to keep this as quiet as possible.

I put my ear to the door and I can hear loud music pumping so hard the door pulses. Damn it. This gets a whole lot more complicated if he's not asleep. He wouldn't be wearing his mask right? I should be able to use knockout gas.

Before I make my breach, I hear Blüd Knight yelling something.

"I AM THE HERO OF BLUDHAVEN! YOU SHOULD ALL WORSHIP YOU'RE SAVIOR AND DO EVERYTHING YOU CAN TO PLEASE ME! WHY MUST I HIDE HERE FROM SOME SNIVELING COWARD?!"

He sounds pissed. Can't say I'm surprised. At least he's distracted.

"Bear my wrath! And feel my scorn! Be honored to serve me in satiating my rage!"

"AAAAHHHHH!"

I hear a woman's blood curdling scream and it's no time to wait. The door opens as quietly, but as quickly as possible. I try not to be distracted by the office and set my eyes on the only prize.

Blüd Knight's shirtless, while stabbing a knife into a woman's arm.

I get a little zealous with the tranqs and litter his body with darts. It's a near toxic dose, but I'll treat him as soon as I make sure the woman's okay.

Blüd Knight falls on a glass coffee table and shatters it into a thousand pieces. His victim runs from under him and backs into a corner. My first action is to go to her and make sure she doesn't scream. It's close too. My gloved hand barely gets there before she starts freaking out at the sight of me.

"Be quiet or the guards will hear you. You need to trust me, I'm here to help."

She's panicking. Her body convulses a bit, and her heart's pumping faster than her nose can gather oxygen. I need to let her breathe through her mouth too, but she'll definitely scream.

"Sorry."

I hit her with my last tranq and her consciousness blacks out. The knife wound in her arm doesn't look that bad…as knife wounds go. Shouldn't remove it or she'll bleed out.

I listen for any guards, but it doesn't look like they heard the shattering glass or anything else. Music probably drowned it all out.

I walk over to Blüd Knight, take out the tranqs, and give him a dose of the counter sleep agent. He should wake up shortly…..and in a lot of pain. There are still some shards of glass embedded in him, but that's the least of my worries.

While I wait for asshole to wake up, I look at the room, which I've been trying so hard not to let distract me. The lights are all deep red and the rave or techno music is blasting loud enough to cause deafness. There are tables covered with every flavor of drug and syringe. Lines of coke, glass pipes of meth, the works.

And then my blood runs cold at the sight of the bodies. Men and women naked and semi naked, lying on the floor. A lot of them pinned against the walls with steel stakes. I check the ones on the floor. Some of them are dead. Some of them are drugged out beyond belief. Victims or willing participants, I can't tell. I don't need to check the ones on the wall. That much dried blood painting the walls and it's not—

*Cough! Cough! Moan*

I haven't pulled my pistol that fast in a while. Might've been a new record.

"Gah!"

Blüd Knight sits on his grungy couch with my foot pinned on his chest and a gun right between his eyes.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Let's calm down!"

"Shut the f*** up. This _is_ me being calm."

I start stomping his chest. I control the power, but only enough from crushing his internal organs. Some of the glass shards stab deeper into his flesh. He tries to defend himself, but he can't. Not against me.

Blüd Knight falls to the floor and tries to get up.

*Thisk thisk*

Two batarangs in his thighs say otherwise, and he trips over himself. He's crying now.

I put my gun under his chin and almost stab it through the bottom of his mouth.

"YOU DON'T GET TO CRY! YOU DON'T GET TO BE AFRAID OR FEEL LIKE A VICTIM!"

I drag him to a nearby wall, pull one of the steel stakes from his victims, and put it right through his outstretched hand.

"GRRAAAHHHH!"

He screams and now has a forever "hello" pose. His stabbed hand barely bears the weight of his body. Must be painful. I hope it hurts more than it looks.

Despite all the screaming and everything else, the music is still drowning out all the sound. I guess the guards just think he's partying real hard up here.

I take out the red hood and put it over Blüd Knight's head. Supposed to leave now. I've sent my message. A very _clear_ message. Blüd Knight will tell Rufus, and Rufus will tell everyone else. The Red Hood is here.

A body twitches and it's the woman who was stabbed earlier….

She looks like she's having a nightmare.

I can bring her with me. I won't be able to bring the people on the floor.

"Twenty Four hours to make reparations….."

The words taste bitter in my mouth. It tastes like blood.

I realize I've been biting my lip this whole time and just barely miss my tongue.

"Twenty four hours to make reparations…..How do you make reparations for this?"

I raise my gun and put Blüd Knight in its sights.

"You can't."

I'm numb to the recoil. I don't hear the gunfire, but I see the metal slide on my beretta pull back. Empty smoking chamber ejects and does flips in the air.

I thought I pulled the trigger, but it doesn't feel real until I smell the gun powder.

The guards are coming. Any other weird noises and they'd probably let it pass, but the sound of gunfire is something no mercenary ignores.

Blüd Knight can still carry the message, but I'll make sure the others do too.

 **Part 3**

Detective Keyes arrives at the scene three hours after the incident. There were reports of a wild shootout, where the whole street and adjacent buildings were involved. The gunfight lasted long into the night, while police worked to suppress the gangsters.

Keyes slid the caution yellow tape over her head and looked inside the warehouse, which was the center of the chaos. Steel shipping containers were opened, revealing drugs, guns, and sensitive documents. She made her way up to the manager's office and saw the room Red Hood was in not so long ago. While she was outside, she heard the gangsters say the same thing. The same thing written in blood, above Blüd Knight's corpse, which hung by a steel stake in his hand.

 **RED HOOD IS HERE**


	4. Repercussions

**Chapter 4: Repercussions**

 _(Previously on Red Hood City: After infiltrating a Vamp Syndicate stronghold, I was going to leave Blüd Knight a warning while he slept. At least, that was what was_ _ **supposed**_ _to happened. What I found there was dozens of people drugged out, dead, and tortured by him. So I didn't give him a warning. I gave him an execution.)_

" _Today, is going to suck."_

Is what I say to myself the moment I step out my apartment building. Huh, must've said that out loud. Everybody's staring at me.

The sun is shining, birds are singing, people are walking the streets and laughing. It's Saturday. It's easy to lose track of the days of the week when you don't have normal working weekdays. My god….They're all just so _happy_. Is this really Blüd Haven?

Makes you wonder about stupid stuff, like if the world was sunny all day, would crime rates be lower?

In any case, I make a beeline towards a Vietnamese restaurant in my neighborhood. You haven't lived if you haven't tried a Vietnamese coffee and sandwich breakfast. One of the best meals in all of existence.

I'll need an extra kick this morning because today, it's all about doing one of the things I hate most in this world.

 **Talking to people.**

Echt. I shudder at the thought.

I need to get a read on the waves I'm creating. Everything has repercussions; cause and effect. Killed a city's "hero" and started an hour long firefight. Need to know the potential backlash and how to ignore it.

*Sip*

Hah…. Thank whoever first invented Vietnamese coffee.

I make sure to order a few extra sandwiches for peace offerings.

After breakfast, it's a long jet plane ride to…. Washington D.C.? That's what the read out says. What's he doing—No. I don't even wanna know. I'm not getting roped into a team up if I can help it. Just want a quick chat and I'm out of there.

Shouldn't be too difficult to find him…

…

"How'd you find me?"

"It wasn't hard, Grayson. You're a crappy spy."

"Jason."

"I tapped Spyral's communication line."

"But the security and the firewalls…."

"Yeah. You guys should really get some."

Grayson frowns and tries to act like he's not impressed.

We're both standing on the rooftop of a certain building, a few miles away from a certain event, where a certain president is giving his speech. Mounted on the ledge is a modified Barrett .50 caliber Sniper Rifle. I know what you're thinking. Nightwing is about to assassinate the President of the United States. It's very shadowy knoll.

Grayson lies on his front and presses a tripod Spotting Scope to his eye. After he confirms all the calculations, he moves to the side and rests the sniper stock on his shoulder. I didn't know circus boy had the moral grey to fire guns. A spy's license to kill, huh?

"What did you come here for, Jason? And can it wait? I'm a little busy."

"Sorry to interrupt your killing the president and all, but I need to ask about Blüd Haven."

"I'm not killing the president. Don't say stuff like that."

"Whatever, John Wilkes Booth. Like I said, I need to ask about Blüd Haven."

"Heard you made it your new stalking grounds."

I shrug. "I'm wondering if I'll step on anyone's shoes if I mess the place up a bit."

He visibly stiffens and takes his eye off the rifle sights. He turns to me in that judging way almost everyone does. "What kind of damage are we talking? Are you back to killing again?"

"Don't try to guilt trip me about icing people, when you're about to assassinate the president, Grayson."

"I'm NOT assassinating the president! Ugh! Forget it! We'll talk later. I've got an assassination to take care of—as in stop, not—! Damn it!"

I sit next to him in the spotter seat. The optics are focused on another rooftop, where another sniper is setting up. So he's here to prevent _that_ assassination.

I take a quick peek at the notebook with all the wind and gravity calculations.

"You're not going to make the shot."

Grayson pretends not to hear me. I'm smiling. He knows I'm smiling. He hates it when I'm right.

After a long moment of silence, he caves in.

*SIGH!* "What do you mean, I'm not going to make the shot?"

"Calculations are off. You don't have enough references or course corrections at enough intervals from the target."

"The bullet doesn't _need_ to hit. If it lands close enough, it'll spook the assassin."

"If you miss, all it'll do is tell them you're a crap shot and they shouldn't worry."

"Words from experience?"

"Yeah. I know assassins and guns a lot more than you do. That a surprise?"

"Then you take the shot!"

Grayson pushes the gun to me and takes the spotter scope for himself. He's like a pissed off sibling or friend you're playing video games with, and they switch the controllers out of frustration. Always a pleasure to see the boy wonder squirm.

I adjust the cross hairs and line the head up for the shot.

"Adjust for wind, thirty six degrees by—"

"It's okay, Grayson. I got it," I cut him off. He's getting more annoyed. I can't help myself when he makes it so easy.

At the last second, he notices what I'm _actually_ doing.

"Jas—?!"

*BANG!*

The podium the president was making his speech on gets a smoking hot bullet hole. I can't hear them from this far away, but I imagine there's a lot of screaming and panic. Secret Service is tackling the president and escorting him to safety. Attendees are running around like headless chickens. It's a little messy, a little funny, but I got the job done.

"JASON!"

"Hey, look. I saved the president."

"You shot at him!"

"I shot at his podium. His podium was evil; it had it coming."

"Why didn't you shoot the assassin?"

"Cause I would've missed."

I'm making that smile. That obnoxious type of smile everyone wants to punch. I should start talking before Grayson actually punches me.

"So, about Blüd Haven…."

Grayson groans and massages his forehead. I think he has a migraine now. Awesome.

"What do you want to know?"

 **Part 2**

Grayson fills me in on how the city was in his time there. Just FYI, it's completely different now. The data's all useless, and it looks like he doesn't have any plans to step in for the city in the future. Which means, I could probably raise all the hell I want and he wouldn't lift a finger to stop me.

Shame on him.

He doesn't get a sandwich.

Now it's another jet to another visit. When I get there, I take a moment to admire the creative gall it took to build a giant "T" on a random ass island. Seriously, who was the architect for this thing?

An hour later and I'm inside the guy's tech lab. Wait. What if the "T" originally stood for

"Tim."

"Jason?"

"Thought I should let myself in."

"But the Titan Towers security—"

"Yeah. You should really get some."

*SIGH!* "Can you at least tell me how you got in so I can buff it."

"….Nah."

"…."

"Come on, don't look so down. It's easier to break into stuff than it is to guard it. That's all it is. I'm sure your security is enough to keep _most_ people out."

It's hurting his pride, I can tell. He's a tech wiz and a genius. But I can break into anything; have been my whole life.

"Not exactly what I wanted to hear. So why the visit?"

Tim's more composed than Grayson was, but he also looks a lot more worn out. Kid's been going through a lot lately. And, I guess out of all us Robins….

He's not so bad.

I toss him one of the sandwiches.

"Just wanted to ask some things about Blüd Haven. Also need to borrow Lady Mist."

Not too surprising, he's heard about Blüd Knight and what I did to him. He doesn't approve, but he knows by now that lecturing me isn't going to do anything.

Tim gives about the same info and response Grayson gave me. Nothing useful, no intention of stepping in, not for a city he's not in charge of anymore. Can't blame him, or even the super spy. They've got enough on their plate already. I'm just more bitter towards Grayson by default.

Tim finishes his sandwich with a satisfied smile. Good, he's in a good mood now.

"You might want to check in with Cassandra too. She and I worked Blüd Haven at the same time."

"Nah. From what I hear, she's not exactly the type I need to check in with. Plus, she has the whole Eastern Hemisphere on her watch. Doubt she cares about what happens in Blüd Haven."

"You just don't want to meet her."

"You're right. I don't. Plus, after eating Grayson's, I don't have enough sandwiches."

"She's family."

"Yeah, that's nice. Now, about Lady Mist."

Tim sighs and enters a few keys into his wrist computer. Immediately after, part of the lab's wall shifts, revealing a costume display inside. The body suit is gray, while its cape and mask are black. As far as costume designs go, it's not really creative. Then again, it isn't supposed to be.

Guess it's time I changed into it.

"I am going to look _so_ sexy."

I can hear Tim's palm smacking his face.

 **Part 3**

Hero Alias: Lady Mist. As the name implies, the costume emits a shadowy black mist that covers the wearer's appearance. Except for my silhouette, some leg, and my head, it's impossible to see anything else. You can still see my boobs though.

I give the costume's boobs a little squeeze. Nice.

Tim made this alias in case he ever needed to infiltrate the Watch Tower. After some hacking and extensive background creation, he managed to secretly register Lady Mist as a hero in the Justice League's computers. And now, I have a fake passport to the super hero treehouse.

Of course, I could have _asked_ for permission, but someone like me doesn't really get permitted into the Tower or the League.

*Vzzzzt*

The warp is instantaneous. One second, I'm asking Tim if he needs to tell me something about the suit; the next, I'm standing on the Watch Tower's teleportation platform.

I walk over to a computer terminal out of the way of foot traffic. Just need to check the priority alert list in the Justice League's mainframe.

It's like this. When something happens anywhere in the world, it gets picked up by the Watch Tower, no matter how small. Of course, not everything needs Superman or Wonder Woman to handle it, and some crisis can be assigned to _lesser_ heroes. _And then,_ there are some places that get no response at all. Yeah, it's a little messed up, but they rank the locations in order of "importance".

Usually, distribution of tasks was handled by J'onn J'onzz, then it was Mr. Terrific, now it's…. I have no idea. There's a limit to what can be coordinated hands on so everything else gets sorted by the computer.

So now, I look up where Blüd Haven registers on the Justice League's Richter scale of terrible things and…..

…

Whoa…. That's worse than I thought.

Blüd Haven is so low on the priority list, anything short of a natural disaster, and the League doesn't lift a finger. I knew the city was abandoned, but harsh.

Don't get me wrong. I'm glad I can do what I want without having to look over my shoulder for some do gooder, who has a problem with my kill shot policy. But it's still a little sad.

Like a rabid dog no one wants to adopt. Am I drawing parallels with a city?

After a little more research, I warp out and return the suit. I thought about stealing it, but Tim lent it to me in good faith.

…. Also, it's not as fun to steal something when they've handed it to you on a silver platter.

Only one stop left.

 **Part 4**

It's night when I call up Keyes. Raining. Knew the sunshine and rainbows wouldn't last. Half expected the rainfall to be red.

Out of all the people to check in with, this is the one that bothers me the most. I broke an agreement, our first test of trust. Wouldn't be surprised if a whole SWAT team showed up any second now. Too bad I screwed relations with the police. Always wanted my own Red Hood Signal beaming in the sky.

The door opens and Keyes steps out. Her hand isn't on her gun. A good sign. She sees me leaning on the guard ledge. Best to do this without hiding in the shadows.

"I saw what you did, Red Hood. Have anything to say for yourself?"

"No."

"You regret it?"

"Not really sure."

"Not sure?!"

She's angry. I can get that. Let's give her a little time to calm down before explaining.

"No, Keyes. I'm not sure. Do I feel good about killing Blüd Knight? A little. Do I feel bad about it? A little. You're wondering if I can sleep at night? I can. You want to know if I'll kill again?"

I see her lips tighten, but I'll say what I need to say anyway.

"I will."

The detective's thinking about it. She's looking out into the distant lights and buildings. Wondering if Blüd Haven is beyond saving if the only hero willing to take it on is someone like me. Can hardly blame her.

"I saw what you did….but I also saw what he did."

"…"

"Those people. I–" She stopped herself for a moment. "Anyone would have lost control. Anyone would've put a bullet in his head, after seeing what he did. I can't blame you for killing Blüd Knight."

"…"

"This one deserved it, but next time–"

"Heh! 'Next time'."

Keyes wrinkles her brow.

"That's what I always tell myself. 'Next time'. Well, next time keeps happening and every 'next time' after that I always pull the trigger. They ALL deserve it, Keyes. But we'r–… _I_ was supposed to be better than that."

I'm brooding. It's annoying.

"The kill shots will keep coming, Detective. If you're going to stop me, now's the best time, cause I promise you, you _won't_ get a clearer shot than this."

Her hand goes to her gun, but she doesn't pull it from the holster…

Then she goes to her hand cuffs. What? Does she think I'll come quietly?

…

She's struggling for an answer. To arrest me, or not to arrest me? That is the question.

A tired sigh escapes her. The kind people make when they're hard pressed for money and have seen too many crap deals the world has to offer. She closes her eyes and stands there in silence.

Not sure what the gesture means, but it's obvious she isn't going to try to stop me. Whether this is a one-time deal or she's completely condoning future actions, I don't know.

I don't care.

I make my way off the rooftop, jumping down into the blood crusted city below.

Last night was the first night of change in Bludhaven. The first violent reaction to a patient's new medical treatment.

This is my kind of place, my kind of neighborhoods; stocked full with my favorite brand of criminals. The ones who make killing them easy.

 _Bludhaven is my city._

 _My Red Hood City…._

 **Note**

I know I'm mixing some pre New 52 stuff with the current era, but there were just some elements of the older universe I liked more.


	5. Signed And Shot

**Chapter 5: Signed And Shot**

 _Previously on Red Hood City:_

 _I killed Blüd Knight; this city's so called vigilante hero. I didn't plan on it. Just how things went down._

 _Afterwards, I tried to get a read on the repercussions. Would Blüdhaven's former guardians return to take issue with my kill shot policy; or worse, some other hero with a moral superiority complex?_

 _Turns out the answer is a resounding and deafening "no". It's a sad day when the good guys turn a blind eye to a city they judge to be too far gone, or at least, not worth the effort._

 _Now, the only people who give a damn about what happens here are the citizens, the cops, and of course, the crime lords._

… _I guess my name gets added to that list._

 _My name is Red Hood, and Blüd Haven is my city._

 **Part 1**

Waiting impatiently in the police department's crime lab was one Detective Keyes. Their ballistics person called her saying he had something urgent, which required her attention. Despite stressing the importance over the phone, the scientist was now making her wait. So there the detective stood, cross armed and leaning against one of the work benches with an annoyed expression.

She never liked the labs. The smell of chemicals always pricked her nose the wrong way and the sterilized atmosphere chafed at her senses. The same could be said for the coroner's office, but she put up with it if it meant doing her job. Waiting around though, that wasn't her job.

Keyes had half a mind to leave already. Her eyes wandered to a small rack of glass vials nearby.

 _What is it about these things that makes me want to give them a slow shove off the table? Am I a cat or something?_

"Don't touch anything!" a voice called from the back, as if reading her intentions.

"Then hurry your ass up!" Keyes yelled back.

The department was busy, especially now. The reason for that?

Keyes' eyes drew to the TV playing in the lab. On screen was a reporter standing in front of a hospital. Ambulances were rushing in and out. Flashing lights of emergency vehicles and police cars flared the camera lens. It wasn't just the TV, but Keyes could see similar lights flashing right outside the lab's windows. Sirens howled down the streets for the seventh time since she arrived.

Bludhaven was in chaos and the detective was stuck in a crime lab.

As soon as night fell, a gang war began in full swing. The police didn't know what triggered it, but suddenly all the city's criminals were hitting each other with everything they had. The number of victims suffering gunshot wounds was staggering.

They weren't only gangsters either. Police offers, average citizens, and some of the city's higher echelons numbered the list.

Hospitals were being filled to the brim with people getting shot left and right, all over the city. Doctors and nurse's staff got called in on their time off, and they still didn't have enough personnel. The same was happening with the police.

Cops ran frantically from firefight to firefight, but mostly finding the damage done by the time they got there. Not to mention there were little to _no_ arrests being made. They spent more time evacuating injured persons than anything else.

Keyes felt something was way off.

Cutting through her thoughts was the voice of the news reporter on the TV.

" _The number of gunshot wounded admitted patients continues to rise as criminal gangsters wage war on the streets. As of yet, the police have offered no comment to this outbreak of violence, but I'm sure we're all wishing the same thing: 'If only Blüd Knight were here. If only he were here to save us'."_

Keyes scoffed.

"I forgot Rufus Vamp owned this TV station."

" _Speaking of the missing vigilante crime fighter, it has been reported that the killer of our city's hero is none other than known masked psychopath: The Red Hood."_

" #$! Guess it was only a matter of time before the whole city knew."

" _Whether a connection exists between the murder of our beloved hero and the current city's plight, remains to be seen. But with both incidences occurring within such close timeframes of each other, it is hard to believe this is all just coincidence."_

"Hard insinuation there, lady. Trying to turn the city against him? Guess big leaps in logic still do wonders for ratings. Even if it's all lies."

"Maybe not," spoke a voice behind her.

Detective Keyes turned around to see the crime lab technician standing there with a folder brimming with reports. Keyes eyed the ridiculous amount of paper with scorn.

"Do not worry detective, you won't have to read them all. They each say relatively the same thing."

"And what do they say? Something important enough to drag me away from the shootings happening all around the city, I hope."

"Oh, yes. Apologies for the wait, but I believe you'd want to see this as soon as possible. The ballistic reports suggest the identity cause of this mess."

"You figured out which gang is responsible?"

"I have found the shooter responsible."

"….Shooter. Not shooter _ **s**_. This isn't a gang war?" Keyes makes a take back to the TV screen. "You're not saying…?"

"Unlikely it seems that _one_ individual is responsible for all this madness, but there it exists, the possibility."

He opened the file folder on one of the desks and drew her attention to several photos. Each of them detailed a bullet taken from multiple gunshot victims.

"I suppose, I don't need to point out the damning evidence?"

Keyes nodded with her eyes narrowed and her mouth slightly agape.

" _Everyone_ admitted to a hospital had bullets pulled like these?" she asked.

"Yes. In varying calibers, but yes."

Keyes stared hard at the photos, while flipping through more of them.

Each bullet was marked with the same identical etchings. A signature for every shot taken.

 **[R.H.]**

"Red Hood…." Keyes muttered. "What the hell…!"

"I've read most masked peoples are narcissists." The lab technician shrugged. "Sometimes the media guesses right. By default, if anyone told enough lies, there would be one or two accidental truths."

Keyes ignored the man's comments and continued skimming the ballistic reports. As she made her way through them, a certain trend became apparent. Before she knew it, a small sigh escaped her, and even a faint smile. The lab technician caught sight of it.

"Detective?"

"….Not a single fatality."

"…?"

"Every single gunshot wound. Nonlethal."

"Ah. Yes, I did notice that odd trend. Vigilante justice, then? But may I point out a major implication with that theory?"

"Yes?"

"It's not only criminals, who have these bullets, Detective. Police officers as well as normal, law abiding citizens have been shot."

"…"

"You believe—"

"Everyone with a 'Red Hood' bullet had it coming."

Keyes breathed a heavy sigh.

" _This is all going to get really ugly."_

 **Part 2**

I wanted to do this different, I really did.

Hit the bad guys from the shadows. In and out, clean. The world would know Bludhaven was under my watch, and that would be it. No problems or controversies attached.

A shadow deterrent. That's what I was aiming for. Kind of like what Bruce did for Gotham. He made criminals fear the Bat. Ordinary citizens felt safe from him. Cops worked with him or stayed out of his way. Meanwhile, he worked from the shadows mostly, away from public eye.

Well, that idea pretty much went to #% ! when word got out I killed Blüd Knight. Few people knew the truth about him. They either saw him as a hero, or they didn't live long enough to tell anyone what a low-life prick he was.

Originally, if he was going to be a kill, I was going to do him in anonymous. Not the first time my temper's got the best of me. I'll admit that.

So now the city knows me as a trigger happy psychopath. Too late to earn the allegiance of the mob and the blues. It's a big disadvantage….

But like they say, 'the wise turn disadvantages into strengths'.

Who said that again? Was it Alexander the Great?

Alfred?

….

I think it was Alfred. Wise idioms are filed under Alfred. Annoying wise idioms, I file under Bruce.

So if the world wanted to think I was a gun toting psychopath, I won't fight it. Just need to play it to my advantage. A violent and loud deterrent is still a deterrent. I won't be some shining figure of a savior or a stoic dark knight.

I tried to do what Bruce did. That was a mistake. It's funny how I fought so hard to not be Batman, but in the end I still tried to be.

I won't be a boogie man for the villains. I'll be a hound that hunts them instead.

I'll guard the city like a dog in front of the house with blood dripping from its teeth. That's more my style.

So much for being in the shadows. In a sense, it's more fitting for this place. Blood will be the game. Violent and loud. I'll save Bludhaven the nasty way, and purge the scum with a heavy hand.

Aggressive medical treatment. There are times you have to bleed the wound before you can heal. Amputate the limb to prevent further infection. Sear the injury in an emergency. It's painful and ugly, but sometimes, it's exactly what your body needs.

…. what this city needs.

 **Part 3**

 _(Earlier that night)_

As I stare down into the streets below, all I can think is:

 _These suckers don't stand a chance…_

This will be the easiest part of the night.

One of the highest towers in all of Blüd Haven, and a bird's eye view on most of the streets and buildings below. I'm set with a high caliber rifle outfitted with thermal and night vision sights. Have all my targets marked on the laptop next to me. Surveillance cameras and hacked satellite imaging.

Have to do as much as I can before everyone starts wising up to what I'm doing. Can probably keep this up for an hour, before I have to move out.

Whew. I'm nervous.

The timer's ready and timed to synch with the first shot I take— then I'm on the clock.

One hour.

How many assholes can I take out in one hour?

I set my sights on my first target. It's an old lady knitting in her apartment.

No. I don't feel bad. She has ten children bagging and weighing drugs in her living room. Everyone who gets a bullet tonight is going to deserve it. Something to stake my name on.

I glance at the rows of bullets I've initialed.

 _Literally._

Say good bye to your child sweat shopping hand, grandma.

*BANG*

A second after the shot, I see the window glass crack, and the old lady's clutching her hand. She's bleeding out on the floor. I'd love to watch what happens next, but I'm on a clock.

The laptop feeds me my next target location. While double checking the camera feeds, I'm loading the next bullet into the rifle chamber. Great, he's still standing on the drug corner like a dumbass.

He's in his mid-twenties, tall, puffy jacket, lot of teenage drug peddlers around him.

The air is cold and dry. Not bad weather for a sniping spree.

*BANG*

Bullet flies right through his thigh and he timbers like a great oak tree.

No time to laugh. Moving on to the next target.

Same process like before—like clockwork, a practiced routine. Target info, reload the chamber, check the video feed, line up the shot.

Guy in a business suit who runs an illegal trading company. Transports guns, dirty money, and—you guessed it—drugs.

*BANG*

Thirty minutes into this and every police car and ambulance is out on the streets. Oh, right. Wanted to make sure I put a bullet in a few dirty cops while I'm at it. At least they're drawn out now.

*BANG BANG*

Tonight's a rough night for the criminal class, no matter who or what you are. Your badge or your clean record don't mean #$% to me.

*BANG*

Not how much money you have.

*BANG*

Not how well connected you are.

*BANG*

Not how clean you may look.

*BANG*

It's a workout that lasts the full hour. I'm covered in sweat by the time the laptop alarm goes off. The gangs or police have probably caught on to my sniping location by now, so I need to bug out. No repeat performance, unfortunately. They'll put up countermeasures in case I try to do this again.

Not bad for a one off though. Got A LOT of clean shots for little work. All across the damn city too. A night started off with a real bang. Now to get down and dirty.

I load up all my equipment and grapple hook to a nearby parking garage. After a pit stop to a certain car, I trade out my rifle for a few extra mags for my pistols and an FN P90 submachine gun. Things are going to get a lot more up close and personal.

After the armory swap, I walk to the only other vehicle in the garage.

One deep breath to pump some fresh oxygen into my lungs. No rest for the wicked.

I whip the black covers off the vehicle to reveal the dark red motorcycle beneath. Full gas tank, bullet proof armor, anti-puncture tires. Fast and durable as hell. My war horse.

I mount it and turn the engine. It roars to life, ready to carry me into battle.

Okay, I might be getting melodramatic and poetic, but everyone needs their moments. We all have our narcissistic sides.

Before, the city only heard bits and rumors about me. Now I'll show them _exactly_ what I am.

 _Fear me, scum of Bludhaven._

 _Fear The Red Hood._


	6. Rapid Dominance

**Chapter 6: Rapid Dominance**

 _Previously on Red Hood City:_

 _Enjoyed a little shooting spree a few nights ago, and every night after that. The city and its people wanted to make me out as some crazy masked shooter._

 _Well, I played the part. Used it to my advantage._

 _Made sure everyone knew it was my work by initialing every bullet buried in someone's flesh. No kill shots though. Those are reserved for the head honchos and VIPs._

 _I'm working my way to them._

 _All in good time._

 **Part 1**

 _Every time I leap off into the city below, it's the same._

Like I'm falling into the jaws of a great beast, the buildings and the people swallow me whole. I am Jonah and Bludhaven is the whale. Or at least something like that. Symbolic metaphors and all that jazz.

But there's no feeling like it.

Into the belly of the beast.

The smell of the city rises and fills my nose with the stench of iron. Wind buffers my body as if resisting my passage into its depths. Lights flash past me like prying eyes watching my every move.

The air in the city's different now.

A tension. An expression. The atmosphere around the people. They're afraid….

They should be.

For five days straight, I rained hell on Bludhaven. From late afternoon, all through the night, and into the early morning. Bullets, bullets, and more bullets in every career criminal I could put in my cross hairs. Drive bys and sniper shots mostly. Haven't slept much these days, starting to run on fumes, but worth it.

The baddies are getting scared— _real_ scared. More cautious. They don't often stand out in the open anymore, or peddle on drug corners like kids opening a lemonade stand.

They're dealing out of rooms with closed windows. Dead drops. They even risk doing business in heavily populated areas. Better to risk getting caught by the cops than by me.

Drug markets slowed way down. Weapons trade too. Less crime in general. I made the risk too great for them.

Not bad for only five days of work, if I do say so myself.

But now comes the harder part.

The criminal class isn't taking me lightly anymore. The six syndicates are each taking their own countermeasures. Starting to hole up in some of their strongholds and fortify. Don't know what's going on in some of them, but they're planning something—I can feel it. One of those bases of operation is my target for tonight.

My first _real_ challenge of Bludhaven.

I stop grapple hooking from building to building, and start running silent on rooftops. Stick to the shadows, the dark alleyways. Need to make sure I'm not spotted from here on out. Not if I want to take this place by surprise.

Finally, I'm where I need to be. I break into an empty office studio and look across the street.

The building I see is two stories tall, brick walled, with a sign that reads Bludhaven Insurance Co. By the looks of it, you can tell it's pretty worn down. The windows are dirty, paint job's discolored and peeling. It's not all that impressive a building, but appearances are deceiving. The insurance company's a front.

High grade security cameras surround the place, hidden in street lights, nearby buildings, and even the cars parked along the sidewalk. You wouldn't notice if you weren't looking for them.

And then, there's the biggest twist.

The building is larger going down than up.

On the surface, it's a measly studio building, same as the rest of the ones around. Underground, however, it descends ten floors down and takes up the size of the whole city block. A fortress unseen to the naked eye.

Wouldn't have found it if it wasn't for the Echo Mapping. A device Bruce created when he started out, based off the echolocation bats use for hunting. Vague outline imaging using sound vibrations. It isn't perfect, but it helped me find a lot of similar hidey holes throughout the city.

So, the _really_ hard part. The Echo Mapping can only do so much. Basic structure of the place I can see, but what's in it and the actual personnel patrolling? Nothing but static and distortion. I _can_ however get a clearer image the closer I am. Otherwise, I'm going in blind. The reactionary game. I don't like playing the reactionary game.

Hard part. Yeah.

First, I need to take out the guards on the first floor before I make my way downstairs. There are two connecting adjacent rooms I need to get through before the underground entrance. Echo Map is clear enough for that. Eight on sentry duty. Armed with pistols and shotguns.

I sneak up to the building front. I get caught by the security cameras but only a glimpse out of the shadows. If they've got guys watching the feed 24/7, all they saw was a black flicker before I got into the next blind spot. The human eye can only register so much, technology even less most of the time.

I'm right outside the open window of the first room. Echo Map the inside to double check their positions. Helps me figure out the most efficient route to cracking everyone's jaws and limbs beforehand.

I mentally strategize and go over the combat actions in my head. All necessary preparatory work. I construct as many initiative advantages as I can before taking the plunge.

No using guns, unless I absolutely have to. Too close quarters, too much chaos if bullets start flying. Don't want any accidental deaths if I can help it.

Equipment, check. Back up equipment, check. Position, check. Balls, check. Night vision, on.

 _Into the belly of the beast, I go._

 **Part 2**

I sync the time as I set off the remote detonator. No big boom. Just small explosives I planted earlier to take out the power lines in the surrounding area. There's probably backup generators for an underground facility this large, but only for the lowest floors.

The lights go out and I'm the only one with vision. Darkness descends as I jump through the window.

Time to get my hands dirty, literally. Grayson and Tim like to lean on stick fighting, but sticks can get caught in things in small rooms like these. Plus, it's just so much more satisfying to bludgeon someone with your own fists.

*CRACK*

From the feedback, I can tell his jaw just got misaligned and he'll be out before he hits the floor.

*CRACK* *BAM*

I kick one of their knees out, and put a careful elbow to the back of his head. Concussive damage. Another one bites the dust.

*BAM*

Fist to center mass, solar plexus. He feels like he's dying.

*Bam*

Love tap to the temple, and I've got three out of the eight guards down within a couple of seconds.

The remaining five are still blind and confused. It's all too sudden for them. They have no idea what's going on. They're afraid and backed into a corner. They don't realize they've already lost the fight.

There's a lot of terms for it. Preemptive Strike. Shock and Awe. The Germans called it "Lightning War" during WW2, or more commonly known as the Blitzkrieg.

Personally, I prefer the military term: Rapid Dominance.

Whatever you call it, it's the initiative. A fully concentrated first strike, and running hard on the momentum, always keeping your opponent on the back foot. You overwhelm the hell out of them, never letting off the gas pedal until opposition is completely obliterated.

These are the one sided fights people see us do; and by us, I mean every mortal, non metahuman, mask without any sort of enhancement or super power. They look like exhibitions, don't they? We fly in and take the bad guys without so much as a scratch or a drop of sweat. Scuffle doesn't last a minute.

Looks easy. We make it look easy.

Don't be fooled.

All of us: Green Arrow, Huntress, Catwoman, anyone who's ever bore Bruce's emblem puts up a front. Because one well-placed bullet—or maybe a really unlucky one—and we're finished.

The key is ending the fight fast with as much self-preservation as possible. It's not a one sided battle, it's a _desperate_ one. Just wanted to make that clear.

That's why.

Rapid Dominance.

We almost live or die on the initiative. We can't lose the element of surprise, or we might die. We can't lose the momentum, or we might die.

A toast to fighting fast, dirty, and with the unfair advantage.

 **Part 3**

I make my way through the underground facility in short bursts. Time is of the essence. Want to give them as little time to react as possible, but don't want to just bum rush in carelessly.

They've shut down the elevators, so I have to use the staircases. There's four of them and they're all heavily guarded. Security's equipped with submachine guns and now night vision goggles. They're trying to take away my advantages.

But there's always a way.

I find the staircase with the least amount of manpower and Echo Map all their positions. Fast strategize. And now to take away their composure.

I toss a flashbang grenade.

The light fries their goggle's optics as well as some of their retinas. They're in the dark and in a panic.

The staircase is narrow so the guards are bunched up, bumping into each other like clumsy cattle. And I descend on them like the poor helpless prey they are.

Rapid Dominance.

I can disable two or three at the same time. Knock them to the ground and put them out with a stomp. Tranq darts and batarangs hit the ones farthest away.

My intuition goes off and I immediately look to one of the last remaining sentries. He's going to open fire. He doesn't care if he hits his comrades or not.

F#$%ing idiot.

Finger on the trigger, can't chance a projectile or he'll pull from effect. Need to do this by hand.

I rush at him. He's not even pointing the gun my way, but at some other grunt. One more pound of pressure squeeze and this stairwell gets a whole lot brighter—and redder.

I grab his hand and pull the gun up, as it starts firing consecutive shells into the air. No one shot, at least not yet. The bastard's still struggling with me, and the arm goes sideways. Bullet holes get carved into the wall nearby.

Once I've got enough stability to muster some momentum, I use it. A short pullback from the waist and then forward.

*BAM*

My helmet meets his face square in the nose. He's choking on his own blood. Now he's worried about his nose more than the gun and finally lets go.

Not over yet, asshole.

I pull back one more time from the waist. Never do it from the neck. You'll ruin your spine or get whiplash. Keep the head aligned with the upper body for solidarity when executing a head butt.

*BAM*

His remaining consciousness dissolves into my helmet. And we're done here.

Time to figure out everything this base has to offer.

I make it to the lower levels without much resistance. They concentrated almost all their manpower on the stairs. Three groups are still left, and if I don't want to go through the pain of fighting them all hand to hand, I need to finish learning this place and start demolition.

Finally. Big shiny metal door. Always a good sign.

I can see why they didn't reserve any troops here. This vault looks the size of those ridiculous ones they have in banks. Can't blame them for being careless. Why would they think a muscle and brawn masked vigilante like myself know anything about hacking an electronic lock pad?

*Pip pip pip*

And a few pips later, the vaults say "ah".

…

Definitely…. _not_ what I was expecting.

When I used the Echo Map, it outlined a room taking up more than half the floor. Thought it would be filled to the brim with weapons, drugs, and dirty money but…not a _laboratory_.

It's basically an mini industrial chemical plant down here. The best science tech money can buy, legally and on the black market. There are cages full of animals, all of them dead. Horses, gorillas, wolves, makes me sad. What the hell were they doing down here?

No workers around to interrogate. Have they already been evacuated? Was there another exit I didn't know of?

I check a nearby flash furnace, the kind they use to burn sensitive documents in a hurry. As expected, there's traces of incinerated notes and records. They got rid of all the research when they learned I was here. Same with the computers when I access their files. All the drives have been wiped. Wonderful.

Looks like all I can do is sabotage the facility and get out. Maybe I'll have better luck finding another one more intact. Could always interrogate one of the guards, but fat chance they know anything.

I start collecting samples from the animal corpses when I see it out the corner of my eye.

A single blood colored leaf, lying on the ground.

Investigative training kicks in. That feeling that something is off, but you don't really know for sure. A big part of your brain tells you to ignore it, but Bruce's teachings tells us to question every little thing.

I split the leaf in half. One part for testing once I'm out of here, the other goes into one of the lab's machines. They're calibrated for this so maybe I might just figure out what this thing is here and now.

The analysis equipment whirrs to life and I think it's pushing the emergency generators to their last legs. The lights flicker and I thought the whole place was going to shut down before I get a print read out. I skim the list of chemical compounds and biological makeup.

…

I've seen something like this before…

I close my eyes and formulas run down in rapid fire. Joker's Laughing Gas, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin, Ivy's modified plants, Bane's Venom Compoun— $%# !

Alright, time to bury this place and get the hell out. I brought some explosives with me, but there's plenty of material here to put together some anarchist's handbook specials. Just need to plant them at the support columns and…

 _*Ah-h-h-hem* "This thing on?"_ I hear my own voice over the loud speaker. _"Right. So I rigged a number of explosives to go off in two minutes. Anyone still here when your hideout collapses on itself, that's on you. This warning has been brought to you by your friendly neighbor; Red Hood. Have a good night and a safe drive home._

 _Oh! And before I forget. Tell your boss, I'm coming for his ass. Sooner rather than later."_

 **Part 4**

I make sure the place is completely evacuated before I set off the charges. Expected an ambush waiting for me at the exit, but found it surprisingly deserted. There it is. My intuition tells me something is off again.

Right as I finish the thought, a single black van pulls up the block.

I hate it when I'm right about bad $# %.

The doors open and five suits exit the vehicle with military grade assault rifles. A sixth, giant of a man gets out the back door that's usually reserved for cargo. I can tell how massive he is by how much the van rocks and rises up without his weight.

Something about the way he moves and carries himself is all wrong. Then I remember what I found down in the lab.

A variant of the Venom Compound.

This guy must've taken it, which means he's enhanced. Was only a matter of time before they hired, or in this case, _created_ a meta to deal with me.

He starts running towards me—fast, heavy, lumbering dude. I can feel the earth quake from here. The guys in the back take aim but no action. Guess they're here as backup support.

Sorry, but I don't like audiences. Makes me blush.

I backstep into the shadows of a nearby alleyway. Bane Light rushes in and catches nothing but thin air. I'll deal with him soon enough, but for now,

Five shots go off in rapid succession.

Each suited up entourage gets an autographed bullet from yours truly and is incapacitated. Now I can have our little 1v1 without having to look over my shoulder.

The gun fire illuminates me briefly, and the enhanced chases my after images. He's a little fast for his size, but not fast enough.

I take aim at his limbs and fire.

Two shots ring out into the night air.

I put one in his leg and another in his arm. He doesn't even notice. Bullet proof armor under the clothes? His enhanced abilities might be enough to withstand the force. Can't risk filling him up with too much lead, or the armor could give out and he could die. I'm such a softy.

I move to the open street where he can see me. Bait him in, watch him throw a few punches. I even feign some clumsiness to boost his ego. It's not just about winning the fight, it's about winning _all_ the fights—including the ones in the future.

If more of this serum develops, which it probably has already, I'm going to be fighting more guys like this. Have to note the strengths and weaknesses. Prepare for an army of them and account for improved versions. Observe all the qualities that don't fit with the norm.

Well, he's an uglier sonuva bitch than the average person. Wonder if that's a side effect of the serum.

He whiffs a huge swing and feels embarrassed. Veins are popping all over his face. Guess anger management problems might be included in the drug's disclaimer.

Another swing and a miss. The speed is deceptive. Unlike the Venom I've seen, it looks like this compound doesn't just boost strength, but agility too. I'd hate to see the aftereffects when it wears off.

After I've measured him enough, it's time to put it to an end. By now, I'm fake panting and looking one second away from pissing myself. He eats it up. Over reaches. Throws his biggest, careless, wind up punch yet.

Rapid Dominance commences.

I grab his outstretched fist and coil around, putting him in an arm bar. With one hand I reach in my pocket and throw sand in his face. Sometimes, you can't beat the classics.

His free hand, which was supposed to be ripping me off, is now distracted with the sand in his face, leaving me to do whatever I want. So I crank his arm hard. I let my emotions and adrenalines flow. Strength goes into my center and I hear his bones snap, crackle, and pop.

Metahumans…too much faith in their powers. His arm alone isn't stronger than my whole body.

"GRRAAAGGGHHHH!" he lets out a gut wrenching yell.

I let go and he starts crying over the arm I just f #%ed up. Now it's time to do the other one. No mercy, full momentum, overwhelm, remember?

I move faster than he can react. Pain and alarm made his movements dull, and now I've got his remaining arm…

…and wrench it till it almost comes off.

"GAAAUUUGGHHH!"

Nothing to defend the rear naked choke. I take his back, put one arm underneath the chin, and the other to lock and apply pressure. As enhanced as people can become, they usually still need air to breathe.

With his wind pipe constricted, his brain doesn't receive enough oxygen. Blacks out in a manner of seconds. When I let him out of the choke hold he falls forward, planting his face painfully into the pavement.

…

Tonight was a bit of a rough night. The first _real_ sign of resistance. Won't be able to take down the scum as freely as I used to.

Gives me an excuse to forego the whole crazed cowboy façade I was putting up for the city. The reputation's in place so that's enough of that.

If we're being honest, even though I was just playing out the role, some part deep down inside? I _really_ enjoyed it.

Maybe I am a gun happy vigilante at heart.

 _I learned a lot today._


	7. Blood Magic

**Chapter 7: Blood Magic**

 _Previously on Red Hood City:_

 _After trashing a syndicate stronghold, I found something I didn't expect. A laboratory built to produce a new performance enhancing drug. Based on the Venom formula that made Bane a berserk roider once upon a time, it increases a person's strength, speed, and stamina._

 _Saw it first hand when they sent me one of the newly born Metahumans._

 _The bad guys are stepping up their game for me._

 _I'm flattered._

 **Part 1**

They call it _Transfuse_. Uses the blood delivery system. A variation of blood doping. In addition to super speed and strength, they've got dynamo level stamina. Running, leaping, punching juggernaut, Lance Armstrongs.

Oh, joy.

It's been some time since I took out the first lab. Finding the others is starting to pose a problem. I've managed to shut down a good lot of them, but they're beginning to move the production elsewhere.

Also, the damn drug is out of the development phase. The method of breeding and curing the red GMO plants that produce Transfuse is down to pat, and I've had to start raiding mass greenhouses.

While I'm busy trying to take down the farms, the drugs are still being distributed out into the streets—into the veins of Bludhaven. Crimes have gone up and police are having a tough time dealing with the enhanced. I help out when I can, but I can't be everywhere at once. I'm treating symptoms when I should be trying to treat the disease.

Need to find a new angle. A permanent solution to the problem.

While I think of my next brilliant idea, I'm infiltrating one of Blüdhaven's high rise towers. Using face camo to blend in with the janitorial staff.

It's the middle of the night and I picked the timeframe with the least amount of employees in the building. Two of the floors are farms dedicated to producing Transfuse. I considered acting the lightning to this Tower of Babel, but I found a more…less wrathy, smitey, accidental taking of people's lives' way.

I pull the fire alarm and watch the people filter out. The only ones who don't leave the building are the gangsters guarding the farm. As expected, their bosses would have their heads if they left their stations for something as trivial as a fire alarm. That's fine with me, just wanted to get innocent civilians out of the way. No reason for them to get sick.

After I'm clear of the building, I set off the gas canisters positioned at key points of the tower. They release a fast acting herbicide that'll kill the Transfuse crops. Special chemical compound I developed myself.

It's also harmful to humans upon inhalation, but not toxic enough to kill them. The guards will be sick for a while, but that's the price you pay.

Not my usual style of crime fighting, but it works. I fight as hard as I fight technical.

Thank you Poison Ivy for making me learn botany of all things. I had the sample leaf I stole from the first lab, but having experience against a villain who uses carnivorous plant life as her M.O. made creating the herbicide that much easier.

*BOOM!*

Window glass shatters and fire pours from the building. The flames above spell R.H. on the side of the tower. I didn't put any bullets in anyone, so I found another way to leave my name on this.

Yeah. It's a bit Project Mayhem-esque. I fell asleep watching Fight Club last afternoon.

I am Blüdhaven's white blood cells.

I purge the city of its disease.

While everyone's admiring my work, and I'm one of them, a number of black vans pull up and surround the building. Syndicate assholes. They're rounding people up. Interrogating everyone who was in the building. They've probably delayed the police and the fire department from coming.

Face camo has limited time use and on closer inspection, you can tell it's fake. They're going to find me. Guess I should hurry and bring the fight to them, while I still have the window.

There's about twenty in all, but I can take them out if I do it the right way. Some of the bigger grunts look like their muscles are about to pop out of their clothes. Transfusers. That's going to require a different kind of handling.

They're too close to the civilians, so guns are out for the moment. We'll do this mist and spectre.

I pop almost all my smoke grenades and the streets fill with billowing grey clouds. I change out of my janitor jump suit and melt into the crowd. Need to do this quiet, but fast. Made a lot of smoke cover, but it'll dissipate quick in the open air.

Higher priority goes to the trash nearest the civies. My helmet's thermal vision lets me see through the fog.

 _Suckers, don't stand a chance._

All of them are jumpy, aiming their guns at nothing. I come up on them one by one. Hit hard, hit precise, and most importantly of all, hit quiet. Have to ease them to the ground so their friends don't freak out.

Fog's dissipating quick and I'm only through half of them. I stop moving. I won't be able to get them all in time.

I mark the remaining ten and move to a vantage point. Need to time this right. I dig through my utility belt and fix a Batarang into every finger crevice. Four on each hand, so eight in all. Need to at least get the guys with the guns.

I close my eyes. Breathe deep. Slow my pulse to a crawl.

The smoke evaporates…

I hold my breath and pour every ounce of focus and willpower into the moment.

My arms whip out and the Batarangs leave my hands. There's still enough fog to hide them, and when they cut through the smoky curtain, the guys will realize what's happening too late.

I hear a number of thuds and yelps from thugs knocked unconscious. After taking in the shape of the new landscape, seven of them are down. All the ones with guns and a Transfuser are out of the fight. The eighth Meta withstood the Batarang, but looks groggy. So three Transfusers left.

I can make this work.

Have to resort to one of my secret weapons though.

I push my palms against my chest and concentrate on calling forth something from the depths of my soul. An object answers and presses into my hands. They're asking me to pull them out.

I hate this part.

My fingers wrap around the hilt and I start to draw the swords forth. It's like prying out my ribs from my own body. Excruciatingly painful, I feel a bit lightheaded, and there's the sensation of losing a pint of blood. The price to pay to summon the All-Blades.

The twin magic energy swords crackle with mystic power in my hands. Transfusers look at me with disbelief and fear.

I know guys. It's intimidating and I look totally badass.

A skip and a leap, and my swords sink into the chest of the nearest Meta. The blades feed on blood—my blood, and in return, I get a limited time to wield the magic blades. Doesn't matter how enhanced you are, defense against magic doesn't usually come with the Metahuman package.

I draw the swords out of the guy's chest, and the wounds aren't fatal. The rules around the All-Blades are kind of vague. They're more ephemeral than physical, and damage the spirit more than the actual body. It varies from situation to situation, and I can control it to some extent.

I turn to the other Transfusers and they're in a panic over what to do.

There's nothing they can do.

With these babies, I could even take down Superman. That's one of the things people forget about the super powered community. You could be the Flash or you could be a Lantern. They're still susceptible to a number of things like hypnosis, psychic abilities, and magic.

Now…I'm not saying I _would_ beat Superman, if we fought. I'm just saying, I'd do everything in my power to never be put in that situation, but if I was, I'd know how to bring him down—maybe.

Funnily enough, it's one of the first things Bruce teaches you. "How to beat a Kryptonian" along with "A Thousand Ways To Take Down A Metahuman".

He didn't have magic swords, but besides a large number of tactics he drilled into us Robins, he also gave us TWO emergency communication lines to use in case we fight any superpowered being out of our depth. One connects to J'on J'onzz(a Martian psychic) and the other goes to Zitanna(the reliable go-to heroine of magic).

Everyone has their weaknesses. Magic must defeat magic.

These Transfusers barely put up a fight. Their mind's are in too much chaos and I use their fear to my advantage. Rapid Dominance and all.

My All-Blades sear the air as I slash into the midsection of one of the Metas. The sword goes clean through and he falls with his eyes rolled up. I put the other sword through the skull of the last enhanced standing. He collapses like he went instantly brain dead.

"Whew!"

The All-Blades fuse back into my body and the fatigue hits me all at once. That's why I don't like using them if I can help it. Takes a heavy toll on the body and mind, leaving me a little vulnerable, a little slow, a little too weak for my liking. But for a few choice minutes, I can fight even ground with anyone, any damn day of the weak.

…

…

Except for Wonder Woman.

I can't beat her.

She doesn't have any weaknesses.

 _Scares the hell out of me._

 **Part 2**

I grapple hook away from the tower to an abandoned rooftop to catch my breath.

I'm panting harder than I mean to.

Can't keep this up. Not every single time I find one of these damn farms. Lack of sleep is starting to play a factor. I've been doing this without any real length of rest for a while now. Two hour sleep days—three if I'm lucky.

Brain's also beginning to function at a lower gear. Can't think of a solution to put an end to this Transfuse problem, or at least cripple the distribution.

I let out a groan of frustration and take a seat on the roof's guard rails.

That's when I notice him. A teenager with a Batman hoodie and glasses, staring right at me.

How did I miss him? He was hiding, but I should have noticed. I really do need some R&R. But I can't stop with Transfuse still moving in the streets.

No. Not my concern right now. Focus. Weird gangly kid in front of you. What do you do?

"Hey, kid. My name's Red Hood. What's yours?"

"Are you for real?"

Okay. Yeah. That went well.

If I shoot him, I won't have to deal with this anymore.

"If I shoot him, I won't have to deal with this anymore."

"What?!"

"Whoops. Did I say that out loud? My bad. Intrusive thoughts. I won't shoot you. Promise."

"…"

"Soooo, nice rooftop. It yours?"

"I tracked you."

"Yeah? How'd you pull that?"

"You've been hitting all the Transfuse farms. Figured you would come for the one near here sooner or later."

"Okay. Sounds legit. How did you know the tower had a Transfuse farm in it?"

"I cracked their server."

"Hackers. Somehow, some way, I _always_ meet hacker people."

"Crackers. Whatever, it's not important. I wanted to ask for your help."

"What makes you think I'll help you?"

"It's…what you do, right? You help people."

"I'm sure all the media outlets have me labeled as a masked terrorist putting bullets into randoms."

"I've cracked the police servers and seen the reports. The initialed bullets they haven't made public. The specific persons you've shot. There's a detective in the department, who thinks you're carrying out vigilante justice."

Keyes. She's probably going through hell with the dirty cops and lawyers I put a bullet in. Maybe I'll drop a mysterious sandwich on her desk later.

"Who knows," I tell him.

"I think you're shooting only bad guys too. You shot a dirty cop that was about to arrest my mom on falsified charges."

"Oh. You're welcome."

"Thanks. But I need more help than that."

*Sigh* "Of course, you do. Look kid, here's the deal. I've been avoiding the whole case by case method most heroes do, on purpose. I'm trying to fix the bigger picture and I can't work on every individual persons' needs. Not enough time. Plus, I'm busy with trying to get Transfuse out of Blüdhaven's system. Maybe If I get some spare minutes, I can come back to you and…"

Oh no. He's giving me the puppy dog eyes. He's obviously a punk kid, and a hacker no less. His people are know-it-all, annoying, smart asses. Manipulative crocodile tears.

"Fine…I won't promise anything, but I'll hear you out. If I can help on my way to other things, then maybe. No guarantees, got it?"

"Alright."

My stomach growls.

"By the way, you got anything to eat or—"

He threw me a bag of fast food behind him. Cheeky kid.

I put up my jacket's hood and take off my helmet so I can eat. The kid looks disappointed and tries to inch in for a closer look.

"Stop. No peeking. So what's your name?"

"Derrick. What's yours?"

"Richard Drake. Pleasure."

"You expect me to believe your name's dick dragon?"

"Don't hate on the name I was born with. I'll take it personally. So what's your sitch, Derrick?" I ask as I take a large bite of the burger.

"I need you to stop my mom. She's going to hijack one of the deliveries of Transfuse."

"Your mom's a criminal?"

He's looking at me with some really accusing eyes. I put my hands up.

"Hey. I'm not judging, okay? My parents were criminals too. Go on with your story."

Derrick pouts a bit, but continues.

"She's not a bad person. Not like the ones you put bullets in."

She sounds _exactly_ like the ones I put bullets in.

"She's just…made a lot of bad choices. I don't know where my dad is, and she's been raising me on her own since forever! My mom saw how good I was with computers, so she's doing everything she can to put me through good schools. Working low paying jobs while pulling a few scams and heists on the side. She's paying my tuition for Gotham Academy, right now!"

"…Go on."

Derrick took a deep breath.

"The next heist is big. Bigger than any job she's done before. She's working with some Vamp Syndicate guys to crash a Transfuse shipment…owned by the Red Kross Gang."

"Oh…" I chuck some fries in my mouth. "*Mumbles* Yeah, that's a problem."

The Red Kross Gang is one of the six major syndicates in Bludhaven. Unlike the others, it mostly works like a black merchant organization than a full on gang. They're basically illegal distributors with guns. Out of all the major crime groups in the city, these guys are the ones that remain the most elusive. I can't get a handle on their main base of operation or find any suspect locations.

And it might go without saying, but since they're primarily a merchant organization, the security on their shipments is nothing to scoff at. They're like the presidential motorcade. Not something an amateur group of thieves can knock over.

"They're going to get shredded," Derrick said, with a real tone of desperation in his voice. "Please." He's crying now. "I can't—I tried to stop her. I don't…! I don't know what else—"

I hold up my hand.

"You don't have to say anymore. I get it. I'll help your mom, kid."

He looks at me like he doesn't believe me.

I finish the burger and throw the rest of the fries in my mouth.

"Please, Red Hood."

He wipes his eyes, and when he looks up again, I'm gone.

A mom trying to do right by her son.

A son trying to save his mom.

…

 _Yeah. I can make some time for that._


	8. Red Hood's Youth Outreach Program

**Chapter 8: Red Hood's Youth Outreach Program**

 _Previously on Red Hood City: After taking out a Transfuse farm, I met a kid in need of some help. His mother and a ragtag group of hijackers are planning to knock over one of the most heavily guarded Transfuse deliveries in the city._

 _She could die. The kid, Derrick, knows this._

 _He wants me to stop it._

 _Begged me._

…

 _How could I turn away a kid who just wants to save his mom?_

 **Part 1**

The caverns were deep and dark. Its tunnels extended for miles out in every direction, creating an underground labyrinth for those who did not know its depths. Only two knew the true extents of the lair. Together, they constructed countless safeguards to make the caves the ultimate, secret fortress.

One of them knit his hands and sat at a giant computer, brooding as his way was. The other was an elderly gentleman who served his master tea. Their names were Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth.

It wasn't long before another, much younger individual joined their midst's. He flew in with the acrobatic grace of a professionally trained gymnast. His landing, firm with a bit of flare for dramatization.

The boy walked beside his father and peered at the computer screens the two stared at.

"Something is missing from the inventory?" Damian asked.

"Yes. It appears we've had a visitor while you two were out," Alfred replied.

"Who was it?! What did they take?! Why are you two so casual about this?!"

Alfred chuckled slightly. "This event is hardly rare, Master Damian."

"Your lack of vigilance is beginning to show, Pennyworth. Perhaps senility is finally setting in."

The little Robin began tapping away at the computer's keyboard to bring up the missing item. After reading it on the inventory log, he ran to the cave's garage, and powered the rotating platform.

Different vehicles shuffled like revolving carriages on a ferris wheel. They moved up to down until the machine stopped on an empty launchpad. Where there should have been a Bat mobile craft, was a tiny scrap of paper instead.

Damian picked it up. The note read:

 _ **Need it for a few weeks.**_

 _ **-R.H.**_

Damian crumpled the paper with obvious contempt.

" _Todd."_

 **Part 2**

The interior shook and vibrated like it was moments from falling apart. All the screens flashed warnings, spelling out stop in every language possible. Big red signs in my face telling me to ease off the thruster.

Alarms went off like the Batjet itself was screaming. Telling me we're both going to die.

Heh. But I also have the music playing on full volume, so it also sounds like Freddy Mercury singing "Don't Stop Me Now".

This thing's built to go Mach 0.8, and in emergencies, Mach 1.4 before it crashes and burns.

…I'm pushing about 0.9 right now.

Small things pass in a blur, faster than my eyes can catch. Bigger things, like mountains, come up slower. Then when you're close enough, you blast by the giant freakin' thing that actually stretches for miles across.

Wind resistance is buffering me back. Air pockets trying to pelt me off course. But my hands are steady on the stick. I spare a glance to the speedometer that's climbing. Just a bit more…

I see the numbers jump and feel the sky crack. The first time I experienced it, I thought I was dying. Now I know the sound for what it is.

" _ **I'm a shooting star leaping through the sky like a tiger~**_ __

 _ **Defying the laws of gravity~**_ __ _ **"**_

It's a sonic boom. I'm breaking the sound barrier—Mach 1 and climbing.

" _ **I'm a racing car passing by, like LADY GODIVA!**_

 _ **I'm gonna go, go, go there's no stopping me~**_ __ _ **!"**_

The whole jet shudders like it's been kicked another world away. Humans aren't meant to go this fast, no living thing is. We needed to invent steel winged monstrosities to take us here. Same world, experienced at a different level. Freedom unlike any other.

It's inhuman, what I'm doing. Unnatural. I love it.

And people wonder why pilots and street racers are so bonkers. How they're addicted to the _speed._

If this is just a fraction of what the Flashes' can do, I drool at what the Speed Force must be like.

I'm lost in flight. I don't even hear the blaring alarms anymore. I can't read what the streaming words say. All I can do is feel what's happening.

" _ **200 degrees that's why they call me Mr. Fahrenheit~**_ __

 _ **I'm traveling at the speed of light~**_ __ _ **!"**_

My body's pressed by the G-Force. My bones rattle, and I feel electricity jolting through my fingertips. Blood and chemicals pumping euphoria into my veins. Thrill seeker's high.

Think I peed myself a little.

"Don't stop me now~ "

The emergency protocols are threatening to kick in. I look at the speedometer—Mach 1.3. If I go any faster, there'll be permanent damage to the jet. Plus, I'm already back in Bludhaven.

My hand reluctantly pulls the thruster back and things become "visible" again. All of it goes slow motion. So much so, for a second, it feels like everything's swinging backwards.

Below, I see a city that's moving still. Like it's been waiting for me to come back. Though I've only been gone for a few hours.

I take a deep breath in…then out.

That felt good. I needed that.

A kick start on tonight's mission.

Fatigue's been setting in lately, but right now, I'm riding on the adrenaline rush.

I land the Batjet in an inconspicuous construction yard and access the plane's computer, linking it to my one at home base.

Kept in contact with Derrick after our first encounter. He sent me a number of possible shipments his mom might attack. Didn't know there were so many. Now that I've "borrowed" one of Bruce's jets, I can hit them all. Should put a big dent in the Transfuse distribution.

According to all the shipment routes, the one going across a bridge looks the most likely target. Narrow passageway, easy road blocking, good cover under the bridge and nearby buildings, if you use them.

The best thing to do wouldn't be to sabotage them in the act. Then you have a three sided gunfight with bullets flying everywhere. Have to intercept the delivery before it gets to the bridge.

Normally, difficult. But tonight, I've got a Batjet. Also the roads they're taking are wide, so I won't get caught on nearby buildings. Target's going to be moving practically out in the open.

It's been a while since I've brute forced my way through something. It's simple. Easy on the brain.

Something I really need, cause I'm _getting_ tired. Microsleep isn't enough to charge my batteries anymore. Especially when I'm running full throttle every night.

Tonight should be good though. Tonight should be fine.

I'm fine. Stamina is good.

…

…

If I _really_ was alright, I probably wouldn't have to tell myself that so many times.

No time to think about it now! GPSSSsss thing says the shipment's entered the window.

I say a little prayer as I push the thrust.

 _Freddy, get me through this._

 **Part 3**

I have eyes on the delivery. One lead car, two SUVs behind it, a large semi-truck right in the middle, followed by the same vehicles as those in front. Transfuse is definitely in the truck's trailer along with some guards.

More security than most nation leaders.

They're traveling on a wide road, extra lanes, and not another car for a long ways off. No street lights and their headlights aren't on. They want as little visibility on their convoy as possible.

Echo Map shows all the vehicles are full passenger and armed to the teeth. SUVs even have .50 cals to mount on the moon roof if the situation should arise.

And this is the easy part of tonight.

I go dark and hover above the ants for a while. It's fairly high up. High enough they don't hear the jet's engines.

The plane's computer synchs up with the convoy, and they move at the same speed. Then a grappling hook goes down and fastens a section between the truck and the trailer.

"Whew. For my first trick,"

I rappel down the rope from on high. Speed's almost free fall, and I only slow down when I get close to touchdown.

*Thud*

My landing's loud, but no one in the trailer or the truck take notice. Not on a road full of bumps and potholes. I also have low visibility on my side.

I make my way to the undercarriage to sabotage the couplings. Upside down, the road travels 75 mph right over my head, and if I mess up on mechanics, I'm road pizza. Never a dull moment.

After the attachment's primed for takeoff, I'm shuffling back top.

"S# %!"

My hand slips and my helmet scrapes the moving pavement like it's a giant sander. I pull up fast enough, but my headgear's going haywire…Then it shuts down completely. Great.

I move slower than I was before cause…you know…I'm doing this _blind_ now.

Not good. Convoy's coming up on the bridge. Need to be faster.

I'm finally out of the undercarriage and take off my helmet. I switch the Batjet's grapple hook from the truck to my belt and have it pull me up. A second later, I'm back in the cockpit.

"Stupid."

I take a look at the damage. My helmet got scraped hard. Need to repair it. Also a new paint job.

Careless. Stupid. Tired.

After a lot of groaning, I get to the real thing.

Because I sabotaged the couplings, the trailer's secured only enough to keep it from falling off the truck. It gets pulled up, the attachment comes right off. Now all I have to do is take it.

Need the cargo to stop moving first though. The Batjet's an amazing vehicle, but it can't steal a **moving** target the size of a semi's trailer.

I take aim and shoot thermite charges above the truck's engine. The cartridges attach to the hood and light like fireworks, melting down from top to bottom. With a hole burned through its engine, the semi starts to slow down, and so does the rest of the convoy.

This is where it gets a bit hairy.

I let the Batjet descend and pop smoke on the way down. The whole motorcade stops and everybody gets out with guns aimed at the sky.

I hear bullets ricochet off the ship's hull. Damn. The paint job. Bruce is going to say something about that.

The hard tow grappling hooks fire out and fasten themselves all over the trailer. Thrusters increasing to full capacity. Slowly gaining elevation.

Keeping one eye on the thugs shooting at me and the other on the numbers. The weight and burden on the jet's engine are fine. Looks like the trailer's off the ground.

Time to get the hell out of here.

Elevation at twenty feet…

Thirty…

Fifty…

One hundred…

…

Not my most "ta dah" magic trick, but I still managed to pull it off.

Sloppy win.

Still a win.

 _Now for my second act…_

 **Part 3**

I trade out my broken helmet for my spare. It doesn't have all the great tech my primary has, but it's still got thermo and night optics. It's also more durable and retains normal sight even if it gets chewed on.

After dropping the trailer of Transfuse in one of my stash houses, I head right for the bridge. It's not clear right away, but after using the Echo Map, I can see ambush party.

Despite being put together at the last minute, these guys sure work like pros. Ten of them total; six trolls under the bridge and four birds in the adjacent buildings. Concrete barriers are set up on one end and C4 charges set to blow the escape route on the other. With a little luck, they might've been able to pull the heist off. Well, not like we'll ever know now.

 _*Sigh*_

Tired sigh. Feeling the adrenaline dump. Not good. Nerves might be completely burned out and I don't even know it.

This better go well…

I drop down on the bridge, ahead of the kill box. Never liked working without the initiative. This _really_ sucks…

I walk slow, but confident. Can't show any trace of hesitation or fear. They should see me by now. I'm zooming in on the snipers and reading their body language. They're on the verge of shooting.

I'd be scared shitless, if I didn't have the Batjet on sentry mode. It's hovering above me, cloaked and impossible to see at night. If the computer detects threats on my life, it'll drop down in front of me and provide nonlethal covering fire. It's not perfect, but for a situation this rough around the edges, it'll do.

"Hey! So, I'm _really_ hoping here that my reputation precedes me. The name's RED HOOD! I know you idiots are out there. Package isn't coming!"

No response.

"Now, _technically_ —You guys haven't done anything wrong yet. No crimes committed, so no bullet in your asses— _ **yet**_!"

I'm so tempted to draw my pistols and twirl them around for my old town cowboy routine.

"But all that can change if you don't disperse. Right. The fuck. Now."

I can tell. They think I'm bluffing. Some of them are spooked, but more of them think this is a golden opportunity. Part of me wants them to be stupid, to fall for all my provocations. But I have to remember Derrick's mom is among them.

Well, one way to save her life is to put a nonlethal bullet in her. Derrick might hate me for it, but I don't have the luxury of asking more nicely than I already am.

The Batjet's tapped into their comms and relays what they're saying to me. They're arguing amongst themselves. Not a team with a lot of solidarity.

"TAKE HIM OUT!"

One of the thugs comes out from under the bridge, brandishing an AK-47. Expected it. Heard him talking erratically on their radio. I also know he's acting alone. He's sluggish and I've already seen his move coming.

My Batarang flies out and cuts his trigger finger clean off. I can see the little meat sausage do flips in the air. Tiny squirt of blood like a squished ketchup packet.

I'm smiling. Good thing I have a mask on so they don't see me smile, or they might think I'm crazy.

The gangster falls to his knees with his decapitated finger cradled in his hands. There's complete radio silence on the comms. Good. Psychological warfare is taking its effect. Just need one more push.

"I'm giving you ONE LAST WARNING! I _don't_ do this very often— _obviously_ —so I suggest you listen the hell up. I REPEAT! You idiots haven't committed any crimes yet. Once you do, you're going to get some bullets in some _**very**_ uncomfortable places!"

I look at the thug trying to reattach his severed finger.

"Like this guy."

I draw my pistol and fire one high on his thigh—maybe a hairline off from the family jewels. The bullet might've given them a hot tickle. You can live with just one of them, you know.

"GUUUAAAGGHHHH!" he screams.

I can see the fear on his face. With that much blood, he might really believe his left nut's gone.

There's suddenly a lot of cursing on their radios. They're pulling out. Good.

 _I take a mental bow, and it's time for the finale._

 **Part 4**

Just one more annoying errand to check off my list…

The hijackers all retreat in different directions, which is convenient. Derrick's mom takes to the alleyways and winds through the back streets. All their escape routes are prepped and predictable.

She hops a fence and makes her way to a car parked beforehand. As she inserts the keys to unlock the door—

*Thoomp*

I drop on the roof of the car.

"Mrs. Lisa Matheson."

"You!"

Her hand moves to her holster.

"Don't go for the gun. I'd really hate to explain to Derrick why his mom suddenly has to walk with a limp."

"What did you say about my son?!"

Not good. Not doing this right.

"Okay. Calm down, Lisa. All this is coming out wrong. I'm trying to help your son."

"YOU, STAY AWAY FROM HIM!"

"Hey. He came to me."

"Why would he do that?!"

Something's off. I'm not in as much control as usual.

"WHY DO YOU THINK?!" I can feel lava building in my stomach. "He saw his mom leave with a gun in her hand, looking to risk her life for a few extra dollars of cash!"

"What the hell do you know about my family?!"

"What the hell do you know about yours?! Do you know he feels responsible for you? You're doing all this for him, right? On his behalf? You think he wants this?!"

"It doesn't matter what he wants—It's what he NEEDS! I'll get the money for him to live on, even if I die doing it! I don't care if he hates me for that."

"And that's the idiotic tragedy you believe in?! He'll look down at the money you left him over your dead body and go 'thanks mom! You were a crap parent, but at least you left me with a better life than yours'— and shift all the responsibility to you?! HE'LL BLAME HIMSELF! Derrick would live the rest of his life, thinking if it wasn't for him, his mother would still be alive!"

"…!"

"You want to do right by him, but you don't know the first **fucking** thing!"

"Don't tell me about things you don't understand! Do you know anything about what it takes to raise a son?!"

"Not a goddamn thing! But I know what it's like to BE the son!"

"…"

"…Twice now."

"…"

I have to take a breath. Emotions ruling my words, making my head hazy. This isn't what I meant to do.

"Sorry. I…I don't think I've ever admitted that out loud before…"

I take off my helmet to get some fresh air. Good thing I put on the eye mask tonight.

I look at her. I don't know what kind of expression I'm making, but it must be something to cause her to look so twisted and torn.

My voice is normalized again.

"You've got a great son, Lisa. And he can be more than you could have ever hoped, but there's a catch. **You** need to be a better person right along his side. You want to do what's best for Derrick? Go clean and go straight. Take the burden of your life off his hands and hold it yourself."

Lisa looks down at her feet for a moment. Eyes on her dirty boots. Gunk and running sewage water under her feet. Her head tilts up with a stutter.

"…Your mother—?"

"Dead. But you don't have to be. Not for Derrick."

"…"

"I…failed. Derrick can still succeed in saving his. All you have to do is walk away."

Tears are streaming down her face.

"I hate projecting, so I'm ending our little sharing session here." I turn away from her, not wanting to spend a single moment more in her eyes. "I'm taking off. Do right by Derrick, or don't. It's your choice. The next time I see you about to commit a crime, I'm putting a bullet in you. Crying son or not. We clear?"

"…Yeah. Red Hood. We're clear."

…

" _Good."_

 **Part 5**

I get back into the Batjet's cockpit. My body's shaking as I melt into the seat.

Well…worked through some shit on that one…

I press a few buttons and put in a call. The other side picks up within the first ring and the screen reads: SOUND ONLY.

"Bruce."

 _*Krrrkkkk*_ "Jason."

"Need you to set up one of those Wayne scholarships for a Derrick Matheson, full ride. He's attending Gotham Academy. Also a Wayne Enterprise job for his mother, Lisa. She needs out of Bludhaven. Rent and living expenses."

"..."

"Give me a bank account and I'll transfer funds for them."

"…Don't worry about the money. I'll take care of it."

"I have the cash and they're my responsibility, Bruce. Don't argue with me on this."

"…Fine."

"…"

"And the jet?"

"…"

"Jason."

*Sigh* "I'll bring back the jet in a few weeks. Don't act like you don't have ten others. This isn't even one of the _good_ ones."

"That's not the point. You should have asked."

"Fine. Next time I'll ask," I lie through my teeth.

"What do you need it for?"

"For what else? Work."

"…"

"I promise I'll bring it back with a full tank of gas."

"…Make sure it's clean and polished too."

"Har. Har."

"…Get some R&R, Jason. You look tired."

 _*Click*_

…

…

I open the jet's window and look up.

No one staring ominously from above, but I bet there was someone two seconds ago.

"Aw, don't tell me he heard—"

*Yaaawwwnnnn*

Whatever. Okay. Time to sleep.

I set the Batjet for autopilot to my place. After landing on the roof of my apartment building, I send the plane to the stash house for safe keeping.

I'm taking a shower…

…

My clothes are still on…

I don't think I've ever been this sad tired before.

 _Clothes still wetttt…_

 _Oomph._

 _Bed so soft…._

…

 _ZzzZzzZzz….._


	9. Red Punisher

**Chapter 9: Red Punisher**

 _Previously on Red Hood City:_

 _The other night, I "borrowed" one of Bruce's Batjets, hijacked an armed transport of Transfuse, sabotaged a heist, and convinced Derrick's mom not to go on anymore suicide jobs for money. Also, worked through some personal inner demon shit while I was at it._

 _All in one, tiring, terrible, fucking night._

 _I don't like taking a break mid-work, but if the last mission was an indication of anything, it's that I needed a breather._

 _Hopefully, Blüdhaven won't tear itself apart or stick a fork in an outlet while I'm not around._

 **Part 1**

It was a scene of surrealism that day in the courtroom. The place was packed with news reporters and onlookers. They were happy, they were angry, they were sad—but mainly, they were frightened.

 _How did this happen? What did it mean?_

An unprecedented: three judges, three lawyers, a Deputy Chief of Police, and a Captain were being tried simultaneously as a criminal conspiracy case. All of them accused of working together to manipulate countless case trials.

How many criminals avoided jail because of them? How many innocents sent to prison? Who would fill their place? Are there more?

These questions and a million others were on the minds of everyone present. If there was one united thought, it was the cold, painful fact exposed today.

Our justice system is corrupt.

In the face of all the repercussions and hell that awaited her after the trial, one lone woman stood with a will of iron. The prosecuting District Attorney: **Sharon Edge**.

With a formal suit she wore like battle armor, she presented her case in front of judge, jury, and peer. Sleepless nights were spent preparing this stage, sharpening her words so they would cut deepest into the defense's arguments.

Her string of trials had gone on for weeks, but all that was coming to an end today. It was the final verdict.

The whole court passed into absolute silence, despite so many people crammed into one place. All were paralyzed by the events to take place in the next few seconds.

" _This court…"_ the Judge began.

They didn't have to be reminded of the crimes or what was at stake. The formal declaration sounded like white noise in their heads. It was the last word that held the most importance. Two or three syllables would transform the destiny of Blüdhaven forever.

"…Guilty," the word resounded like something hallow.

The moment the verdict was given, there was a moment of silence. Everyone inhaled after holding their breaths for so long.

…

…

Then, all at once, the court erupted like a storm. Too many voices yelling at once to be remotely coherent. The judge banged his gavel like a drum, demanding order from an uncontrollable mob.

In all the chaos, no one detected the sigh of relief that escaped Sharon Edge. She closed her eyes and savored victory, unknown to anyone. Well, almost.

Only one other exhaled the same sigh of relief. It was Detective Lara Keyes, who stood directly behind the prosecutor.

 **Part 2**

After the trial, Keyes and Edge walked together through the Hall of Justice, while avoiding paparazzi and other bothersome company.

Eventually, they found their way to the neighboring parking lot on the highest floor. In the open air, the two basked in the sun. They rotated their necks and shoulders trying to ease the stress caused knots and kinks out. It was the first time they could breathe easy for months.

The two rested on the roof's ledge and smiled.

"We did it. We _actually_ did it…" Keyes spoke with disbelief.

"Never thought I'd run a case like this when I started practicing law. Whew…" Edge exhaled, and then laughed.

It was a maneuvering of legal mastery.

From the moment Red Hood started putting his initialed bullets in not only criminals, but important government figures, Detective Keyes recognized the action for what it was; the marking of potential targets for investigation.

The policewoman immediately got in touch with her close friend in Sharon Edge, and together they hatched a plan. They put all the suspected officials under immediate investigation. The Detective and DA worked under the guise of "arresting Red Hood" and "tracking down the victims' shooter". Doing this allowed them access to the officials' files; an excuse to follow trails of clues that would normally be blocked under regular circumstances.

The information they found was definitive. By the time the corrupt officials became wise to their _true_ intentions, it was too late. Edge and Keyes found the evidence they needed to prosecute. And for the first time, possibly in all of Blüdhaven's history, it would possess a relatively uncorrupt justice system.

…At least for now.

"You never see how bad the infection is until you open the wound, huh…" Edge mused.

"Red Hood certainly did that," Keyes responded.

"Lara."

"Yeah?"

"We both go way back. Been friends all our lives. I think we know each other fairly well."

"Mhmm?"

"You know how I operate. If I _ever_ happen to meet two guns attached to a red mask, I'll prosecute him right on the spot."

"…"

"So if you happen to know such person of question, you should keep him out of my sight."

"Not that I know such person of question, or even how to contact him if I did," Keyes said, looking away.

"Good. Also, warn the idiot that he didn't just kick _ **a**_ beehive. He's kicked FIVE."

"I think he already knows that. Five, you said? So the _**Lawless**_ still haven't made a move?"

"No. You know them. They don't like to operate outside their island. If they _are_ putting something together, we don't know it. I doubt _he_ does either."

Edge opened a cigarette pack and made an offer to Keyes. The detective shook her head.

"Might be okay for you, but I need to take care of my body."

"What the hell does that mean?" the woman snapped, while lighting a cigarette.

"Nothing, Edgey."

"God. Don't call me that or I'll have you indicted."

"Guess I shouldn't pick a fight with the undisputed, heavyweight champion attorney right now."

"Damn straight."

"Lot of enemies were made today."

"Yeah, but I feel like a Mike Tyson in his prime." Edge flashed a surprisingly mean jab. "Let'em try and take my belt."

"Just make sure you've got the right police watching your back."

"That's why you're here, right?" She expelled a cloud of smoke. "Better than trusting my life to a masked hero. Where is the vigilante anyway? Haven't seen him around in the last couple days."

Keyes shrugged. "He's been making news headlines the moment he got here. If he's like anyone else that's worked too much overtime…"

"Hah! Do those guys even take vacation days?"

"The Bat people are all as mortal as the rest of us as far as I know."

"No kidding. Thought he might be a Metahuman like those Transfusers running around these days."

"Who knows for sure. Anything else you want to tell person I may or may not know?"

Edge took another long drag in thought.

"…Tell him, 'thanks' from your friend. Not from me. I'd never condone his actions."

"Thanks from anonymous. Got it."

"Also thank his hacker friend."

"How do you know they're related?"

Sharon gave a noncommittal shrug.

"Intuition."

During the course of their investigation, there always seemed to be a guiding hand. It led them to the next string to pull whenever they hit a dead end. Incriminating info that surfaced a bit too conveniently. Heavily encrypted files suddenly unencrypted the next day.

"It does remind me of something that happened in Gotham a while back. We thought it was Batman at first, but it didn't quite fit," Keyes remembered.

"Oh, yeah? Well, more than Red Hood I'd like to thank her."

"How do you know the hacker's a woman?"

"Intuition. Our helpful little Oracle of wisdom feels like a she."

" _Hm. Oracle, huh?"_

 **Part 3**

 _*Tum tum*_

Barbara picked up her phone that vibrated on the couch arm, and scrolled through it. Probably skimming a news article.

"Hey, Sharon won her trial. Looks like Blüdhaven's justice system is getting its much needed overhaul," she turns to me and says.

"Rmmhhrrmm—murmurmnnhrrm."

"What are you a child? Talk _without_ food in your mouth."

I swallow the Vietnamese sandwich I was chewing and thump my chest to help it down.

"Want to say that again?"

 _*Ahem* * Cough*_ "Thanks for the help on that, by the way. I'd've done it myself, but you being the daughter of a commissioner and having a law degree and all that. On top of being a hacker, of course."

"Anything to help. 'Specially if it means, putting cuffs on criminals instead of bullets."

"Now, now, Babs. I'm not spending my vacation time with you to hear _another_ lecture about how guns are bad."

"No. You're doing it because I have Netflix and a really comfortable couch."

"How else am I supposed to binge watch Daredevil?"

Barb raises an eyebrow at me, and then gets off the couch.

"Pause it for a second. I'm stepping into the kitchen to get my ice cream."

"Oo~h! Get mine too."

"How are you putting all of this away?!" she yells from across her apartment.

And that's how the last couple of days have been.

Taking in a lot of much needed R&R. I visited Barbara yesterday and we've been marathoning shows and inhaling pleasure foods ever since.

"I'm gonna get fat," she says as she stares down at the two unholy sized ice cream containers in both her arms.

"I think with our crime fighting workout regimen, we'll be fine, B. Now, c'mon! I wanna to see what happens to the Punisher!"

"Should I be worried about the obvious parallels you're drawing with that character?"

"Hey, what do you think if I painted a red skull on my Kevlar vest? You think people would get the wrong idea?"

"Just shove some ice cream in your mouth and watch the show."

"I'm waiting on you. Unpause.

 _Let there be justice and Netflix for all!"_

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE**

Hello hello Readers,

I know. Short chapter after a huge lack of updates. The next chapter will be a lot longer and out in a couple of days actually, instead of the normal once a week. Something to try to make up for lost time.

Uh, yeah, A LOT of stuff happened to attribute to my recent absence. I got sick, then I got busy, then I got sick AND busy. Then work stuff. Blah blah blah. Who gives a shit?

Anyways, releases will be "better" and more frequent after this one(I actually wrote this chapter a while back, but it glitched out on me). Back to doing what I love and typing up a storm. Stock piled some notes and ideas that need mind barfing. Good times to come. Look forward to it.

See you guys on the other side!

-Nezz


	10. Mind

**Chapter 10: Mind #$ %**

 _Previously on Red Hood City:_

 _After working overtime for something number of weeks straight, and then having one of the most tiring nights of my life- I decided to take a small vacation._

 _Relax. Recuperate. Sleep like the cold dead and eat away all the stress I've been building up._

 _I paid Barbara Gordon a visit and we binge watched Daredevil. Need to make one more pit stop, and then it's back to Blüdhaven to put some good bullets in some very bad people._

 **Part 1**

Meditation.

It's good for the mind and body.

I used to think it was new age, hippy garbage or some sort of placebo for the gullible. Well, training with Bruce helped curb that line of thought, but it was my time with the All-Caste that really showed me its benefits.

I meditate daily now. Everyone needs to find _some_ peace of mind in their day. Clear their thoughts, lighten their spirits, train defense against mind control. That last one is _really_ important.

I open my eyes and find myself in a room surrounded by the blackness of space and the distant lights of stars. Raven really likes to put on the cosmic vibe when she has a meditation session. It's actually kind of nice. Magic is usually nice when it's not trying to kill you.

In the revolving cosmos that is Raven's room, I can barely make out her hooded silhouette in front of me. Dark purple cape and eyes closed, she looks dead to the world, but I can sense her coming back to reality. Her eyes open and focus on me. For a second, I think I see her smile.

"Your mental defenses are impressive," her voice drifts across.

During our training as Robins, Bruce taught us to construct mind labyrinths. If anyone tried any psychic mind crap and tapped our heads, they'd have to maneuver a maze first before they could exert any kind of influence.

Raven rested her chin on her hand inquisitively. "Tim's are similar, but not as strong?"

"Mystical All-Caste training to thank for that. Taught me all kinds of neat tricks."

"Hm. Indeed. It's not everyday someone resists my mind magic."

"Thanks for the practice, Raven." I stand up and throw the pillow I was sitting on into the corner. "Blüdhaven's bad guys developed Metas the last time I was there. Don't know if they'll try to take me down the telepath way next, but it's better to be prepared."

"It was as good as practice for me as it was for you."

As I'm walking towards the door, I can see Raven smiling out the corner of my eye. She must be so proud of herself.

"Inception check."

I flip the coin in my hand, catch it, and have a look see.

Tails.

Tails on a coin that's supposed to be Heads on both sides.

I draw the gun from my holster and pull the trigger. Gun fire rings out. I see Raven's head whip back in an amazing arc. Smoke floats up and mixes with the blood from the new hole I drilled in her forehead.

My head turns over and I'm opening my eyes again for the first real time. Raven's in front of me, sitting like before. No hole in her head, alive and well.

She's scowling.

"If you knew it was an illusion, you should have said so. I could have done without the gunshot."

Raven rubs the spot where the bullet hit.

"Sorry. Just reaction, you know?"

"Hrrmm," she grunted. Her pride's hurt. Probably never had someone counter her illusions like that before. "If it was real, or you made a mistake, you would have killed me."

"Yeah, but I didn't."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…I think Tim's probably done with my helmet by now. Good seeing you, Raven. We should do this again sometime."

Raven crossed her arms, but nodded all the same.

Don't know what she's more upset about, getting mentally shot or being out mind tricked. Either way, I won't stick around any longer in case she tries to get a revenge match started. Before I leave the room, I repeat the inception check.

Heads.

Raven twitches a little and throws me a dirty look.

" _I can hear your mind snickering, even if you're not physically doing it."_

I head down the stairs of Titans Tower to the basement where Tim's workshop is at. Earlier today I asked him to take a look at the helmet I broke on the last mission. I'm hoping along with repairing it, he'll also take it upon himself to make some improvements. Smart asses love to show off how smart they are.

"Jason," he says as soon as I open the door. "I finished fixing the helmet and made some tweaks to the tech, while I was at it."

Of course he did. I should humor him.

"Thanks. What changes did you make?"

He's practically beaming.

"Well, first, I improved the overall durability of the helmet. You won't lose your sight so easily after taking damage. Next, I added enhancements to the thermo and night vision since it was outdated. Then, I also extended the face camo's working time to four minutes."

"More than what I could ask for, Drake. I owe you one."

"Please. Us Robins help each other out, right?"

"Sure. If you ever need a bullet in someone, just give me a call."

"I'll never take you up on that offer."

"Of course, you won't." I wink. "Just hypothetically speaking, if you ever needed someone shot, no judgment, no questions asked…" I wink again. "…Us Robins help each other out."

"Jason…"

"Drake…"

He sighs.

"Just…stay safe and _try_ not to shoot too many people."

I put on the helmet and activate the face camo.

"Scouts' honor," I salute Tim in his own holographed face and voice.

"… _I've never immediately regretted anything so fast in my entire life…"_


	11. Isn't There A Law Against That?

**Chapter 11: Isn't There A Law Against That?**

It was the dead of night when Officer Keyes and other law enforcement received a high priority alert from dispatch. Several calls had come in from one of the corner districts of Blüdhaven. All of them citing the same thing in manic and screaming voices: Transfusers were rampaging in the streets.

By now, the police had arrested many of the artificially made Metas and analyzed the substance that gave them their powers. They found that Transfuse, in addition to its enhancements, was highly addictive. Those that went without the drug for only a few days, exhibited severe withdrawal symptoms and committed any measure of violent acts to attain more.

It got to the point where the Red Kross gang, who originally provided the Transfuse, begun being attacked by the very people they distributed the drug to. There were growing instances of Transfusers fighting each other every day. Some addicts even resorted to raiding heavily armed Red Kross facilities they could find in desperation.

And that was exactly what was happening when the police received the string of 911 calls tonight. Law enforcement vehicles streamed to the locations where Transfusers attacked the Red Kross gang, blocking off streets in an attempt to contain the situation. All the while, giant, twisted mutations fought each other either to receive their drug fix as paid protection or to steal it from the distributors.

Keyes and other police officers arrived on scene and parked their cars, adding to the street's barricade. The neighborhood was full of rundown apartment buildings and foreclosed homes that hobos took to squatting in. It was hard to imagine a Red Kross storage house located here, but the ensuing battle proved otherwise.

As the police advanced on the chaos, the innocent residents of the neighborhood ran in the opposite direction. Fires and loud crashing could be heard in the distance. Monstrous, guttural yells echoed through the night and put everyone on edge.

When the officers drew nearer to the noise, there were no longer any running civilians. At that point, the police had their guns drawn at the ready. Slowly, but cautiously, they moved forward with a low stance.

The officers paused at hearing a resounding boom from around the corner of a building. A second later, an object like a meteor, flew into view and crashed into the concrete. Dust floated from the crater—and there, a gangly muscled body rose from the impact.

Right then, another Transfuser pounced on him. This one much bulkier and healthier it seemed than the first one. The two super humans resumed their brawl, paying no attention to the police watching them. Keyes and her fellow officers were at a loss as to what to do.

They thought about letting them continue fighting each other. They thought about coordinating some sort of suppression tactic. The idea of yelling at them to freeze and surrender even came to mind.

But while they tried to think of their next course of action, the decision was made for them. It may have been the most terrible choice given the situation.

One of the officers cracked under the fear and pressure. He opened fire at the sight of the two battling behemoths. Bullets penetrated their bodies and sunk into their dense muscle, but seemed to do little harm. The policeman shot wildly to no effect until he emptied his clip.

Only then did the Transfusers take notice of the law enforcement. With so many guns trained on them, the two metas never registered them as a significant threat, only looking at them as if they were minor hindrances. The two stopped brawling with each other, seemingly agreeing to take care of the police before continuing their fight.

The Transfusers each grabbed a car parked on the side of the street and lifted them overhead with ease. Meanwhile the police watched the inhumane feat like deer caught in a headlight. Only one of them kept their wits.

"HIT THE DECK!" Keyes yelled.

All the officers' snapped out of their daze as their training kicked in. They dove down on their bellies, scraping their hands and knees. Just when they positioned themselves flat on the floor, two vehicles soared overhead, flipping in midair, missing some of their heads only by a few crucial inches.

"It's not over yet! Take cover!"

Keyes was right.

Before the officers could fully take in their death defying escapes, they were quickly forced to make another one. The Transfusers chucked a second volley of cars their way, causing them to scatter to the sides of the street. The officers took refuge behind the surrounding buildings as they were bombarded with more vehicles.

The cars and trucks exploded like giant sized napalm shells upon landing. Fire and shrapnel burst all around the neighborhood. It was overwhelming destruction.

As Keyes leaned her back against one of the buildings, she struggled to produce an idea to counteract the situation. Much less get a clear shot, the corner she took cover behind was repeatedly being chipped away by the makeshift mortars. In all the deafening destruction, the detective cursed for no one to hear.

"WHERE THE _**FUCK**_ IS REDHOOD?!"

At that moment, Keyes heard something massive fly overhead. She looked to the sky and could barely make out the shape of a black aircraft hovering in the night sky. A pair of slots opened under the plane's undercarriage and two steel rods fired from them with a sharp whistle.

The silver harpoons struck the Transfusers in the arm and pinned them to the ground. Although the projectiles were large, it seemed the wounds would not be fatal. The two tacked down targets bellowed and writhed in pain, thoroughly restrained.

Keyes and the other police officers moved out from their cover and stared up at the dark hovercraft.

 **Part 2**

"ABOUT _**FUCKING**_ TIME!" I heard over the audio pick up.

Is that Keyes? Can't blame her for being pissed. Vacation might have lasted too long. I'm also the reason Bludhaven needs to deal with these Transfusers in the first place.

They originally made these metas to deal with me. It's not my fault they didn't control the distribution as well as they should've, but I was still the cause at its roots. I wonder if I made this city worse than when I first arrived.

I can guilt trip later.

Blüdhaven's on fire and I need to put it out.

I zoom in on the two Metas I staked. Looks like the skinnier one is coming down, but the healthier one isn't. The bolts I fired at them have the anti-serum for the Transfuse. Problem is, it takes a while to take effect. This is going to be a tough night.

First things first, I need to make sure the police don't get in my way.

I punch in commands into the Batjet's computer. A fake signal to all law enforcement to fall back is now being broadcasted. Really useful when you need some breathing room.

…And I'm going to need A LOT of breathing room for this.

The blues are all moving out of the streets and hopping into their cars. Well, not _all_ of them. Don't know what I expected. Suppose I shouldn't keep her waiting any longer than I already have.

I drop down from the Batjet and onto the street below.

"Detective Keyes."

"Red Hood. About damn time you showed up."

"You _really_ shouldn't be out here. Heard police dispatch give the order to fall back."

"Fat chance of that."

"You're disobeying orders. They'll have your badge."

"Not when they find out the signal was a fake."

I shouldn't be impressed. She's a detective, after all.

"…Leave this to me and clear out."

"Not happening."

"This is out of your league."

"You can't take them all out on your own."

"Yes. I can."

Keyes folds her arms and glares at me. Why does everyone always do that?

"I can, really. Even if I _did_ need help, what makes you think you could do something?"

She looks at me like she's trying to read my face. Which makes absolutely no sense seeing as I'm wearing my helmet. I don't have time for—

"You _must_ have some sort of anti-meta weapon. If you're anything like the Bat, you probably have five. Lend me one."

In addition to fixing my helmet, I _did_ ask Drake to develop a few weapons for the Transfusers…

…

This is a bad idea. I shouldn't. Bruce would never consider it.

"Fine, why not," I shrug.

Then again, I'm not Bruce.

"Wait, isn't there some sort of law against helping vigilantes?"

"Wait, isn't there a law that shut the fuck up and help me save my city?"

"… _Okay, point taken, Keyes. Let's save_ _ **our**_ _city."_


End file.
